


Russian Roulette

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-24
Updated: 2006-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Post HBP. It’s seventh year, and the Slytherins challenge the Gryffindors to a Wizarding version of Russian roulette, one that involves Love Potions and a midnight party. Harry and Draco are very confused, as they begin to grow feelings for one another. Did they both get the Potion? Did only one of them get it? Did neither of them get it? HPDM





	1. Reckless Bravado

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Title: Russian Roulette 

Author: Princesspepper

Rating: PG-13, for cursing and sexual innuendos (will be R, or NC-17 later). 

Pairing: Harry/Draco

(A/N): At first I thought that I might blatantly disregard the sixth book (I was depressed), but now I’ve realized it would make for a better plot if I didn’t. This stuff probably doesn’t make sense right now considering the sixth book, but it will all be explained in chapter two. I hope you enjoy, and please review!

[//]

** [Chapter One: Reckless Bravado] **

Whispers floated through the air of a clear Saturday night, the wind carrying the sounds of teenagers’ voices. From above, one could see a tight gathering of about ten or so young people, sitting under a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Their heads were bent inwards, all saying whatever it was they were saying in an undertone; they weren’t supposed to be outside at this time. But, then again, seventh year was a fun time to break rules, as teenagers were liable to do.

Upon closer observation, the observer may find it a little weird when recognizing the faces of the ten people under the tree. They were a mix of Gryffindors and Slytherins—the two houses that socialized with one another the least. Although this may appear to be a friendly gathering among acquaintances, if one were to hear the discussion that was now taking place, their mind would be changed rather quickly. 

A black-haired boy with a striking scar on his forehead was gesturing furiously, his eyebrows drawn together to form a scowl. “It was you who cheated, Malfoy!” he hissed under his breath, directing his green-eyed glare towards a blond boy of the same age. 

“Shut up, Potter!” the aforementioned teen snarled, his thin arms crossed against a narrow chest. “How come every time we make an attempt to have a friendly gathering, the discussion always turns to the last Quidditch match?”

“How is it that you’re trying to be the mature one now?” he fumed in response, “I’d like to remind you that it was _you_ who brought up the match!” 

“I told you to shut up, you—”

“Gentlemen!” a shrill voice said, sounding over their bickering. “Could we get back to the task at hand, please?”

“You always interrupt me, Pansy,” Malfoy said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the trunk of the tree he was sitting in front of, glaring at the black-haired girl who had spoken.

“It was necessary, dear,” the girl called Pansy responded, patting Malfoy’s arm soothingly. 

He jerked his arm away from her touch and continued to scowl, not taking his eyes off one of the Quidditch goal posts in the distance. 

“Anyway,” Pansy continued, now addressing the entire group in an amiable fashion, “I’d like to remind you all of why we’re here, as you may have forgotten at the fault of our two favorite rivals,” she said, casting Potter and Malfoy another dark glance. “The Slytherins have challenged the Gryffindors to a friendly wizarding version of a Muggle game called Russian Roulette. Does everyone know how this works?” Pansy scanned the circle of her peers, seeing several confused faces looking back at her. “Alright then…” she said vaguely, rummaging through a large bag that she had sitting next to her. 

She withdrew five vials of clear liquid and roughly ten cups, separating the cups and spreading them out in front of her. “Well,” she said, looking up at the group, “the Muggle version of this game involves something called a gun… sort of like a Muggle wand used for killing people. It sounds quite dangerous, doesn’t it?” she said, responding to the pale faces of her peers. “But don’t worry,” she added, smiling, “this game is not fatal. You see in front of you ten cups—one for each person in this circle. These vials—” she gestured towards the various containers— “contain liquids that all taste the same. Each vial contains enough substance to fill two cups. Four of these vials contain an extremely mild forgetfulness potion—it’s just to make sure the players are on more even footing, and you won’t forget anything important. The other vial, however, contains a Love Potion.”

Everybody in the circle exchanged fearful glances with one another, looking more than a little uneasy. “This Love Potion, however, is not permanent. It should only last about two months or so. As you all know, once a Love Potion is taken, the one who consumes it falls in love—or, at least experiences an imitation of it—with the first person they set their eyes upon. Now, I have no idea which vial contains the Love Potion; as you can see, they all look identical.” At the conclusion of these words, Pansy began pouring the contents of the vials into the paper cups that were sitting in front of her. 

When she was through, she backed away and gestured for everyone to take one, her taking one herself as well. “Now here’s the fun part,” she said, smiling. “We can’t have everyone choosing who they look at, can we? That would be too easy! So I’m going to make everyone stand up now…” her voice trailed off as she watched everyone stand up. She followed suit a moment later. “Now close your eyes and I’m going to randomly re-arrange you. No peeking now!”

She quickly zipped around the circle, either moving people only a space over, or moving them entirely across the circle at random. She put her hands on Weasley’s shoulder and guided him a few spaces away, switching him with Draco. Then she proceeded to move the rest of her peers (Potter, Granger, Thomas, Finnigan, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini). Once she was satisfied with her new arrangement, she told them all to sit down, taking her own space and trying not to notice who was around her, so she wouldn’t have an unfair advantage. Who ever said all Slytherins were cheaters? Right, Harry did. 

All whispers ceased once everyone was seated. The tension in the air was apparent as everybody kept his or her eyes closed and waited for Pansy to say the word.

“Alright,” she whispered, closing her own eyes and drawing in the attention of the rest of the circle, “after you down the contents of your glass, look in a random direction. I don’t want you to think I placed you strategically or anything. Because I didn’t,” she assured them. 

Just as everybody swallowed the liquid in their cups, a far off clock could be heard chiming midnight. The sudden noise made everyone jump and open his or her eyes suddenly, causing many of them to look straight across the circle without thinking of the consequences…

[//]

When Harry Potter opened his eyes, he already knew something was off with him. His head hurt a bit, and he felt sort of dizzy. This didn’t last long, for everything seemed to right itself when he set eyes on the person across the circle from him.

However, things did not stay nice like that for too long. No, when Harry realized who it was he was looking at, his heart nearly stopped beating. 

Draco Malfoy was staring back at him with a slightly surprised look on his face. When Harry felt those silver eyes on him, his heart seemed to speed up to twice its normal rate.

Oh. Crap.

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Pansy’s voice break the stunned silence. 

“Well, I’d imagine two of you feel quite a bit different,” she said, a smile on her face. “But,” she continued, “I’ll have to ask all of you not to say weather or not you’ve gotten a Love Potion, if you can tell. Now is your opportunity to let someone know how you feel—and if they don’t feel the same, you could just lie and say you were under the influence of a Love Potion to avoid embarrassment!” 

Everybody was still staring distractedly at whoever it was they had first looked at, apparently trying to figure out weather or not they had gotten the Potion.

“You look confused,” Pansy muttered, almost to herself. “This is one of the weaker Love Potions, so you may not even be able to tell whether or not you’ve consumed it. But if you feel anything for anyone here, I suggest you act now. That was the whole point of this! We aren’t _cowards,_ are we?”

At those last words, the five Gryffindors in the circle got a determined glint in their eyes, while the other four Slytherins grinned wickedly. 

Harry, for one, didn’t need any more probing. He quickly got to his feet and, in three quick strides, he was across the circle, standing in front of Malfoy. The boy in question looked at him skeptically, waiting for him to explain his movement, and trying in vain to hide his surprise.

When Harry said nothing, Malfoy too got to his feet. “Potter?” he said, raising an eyebrow, hiding his nervousness with arrogance, as usual. With a jolt, Malfoy realized that everybody else in the little circle had stopped what they were doing to watch his and Potter’s little exchange. 

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes glazing over creepily. Malfoy just raised another eyebrow, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently.

_‘Thunk!’_

Before Malfoy knew what hit him, he was pressed up against the tree-trunk behind him, Potter’s hands encircling his wrists. His hands were being pinned to the tree on either side of his head by a pair of strong arms. He saw Potter gazing back at him, a look of grim determination plastered onto his face. “Wha—” Draco began, but was cut off as a pair of soft lips closed over his own.

Draco’s immediate reaction was surprise. _‘I’m being kissed… by someone I can’t stand…’_ Draco thought vaguely. But, to his extreme horror, his body immediately responded to the kiss. Draco felt himself start to kiss Potter back, which scared him more than just about anything else he could think of. After a few heated moments, Draco felt himself relax into Potter’s arms, thinking, _‘hey, this isn’t so bad!’_

Draco felt his knees start to give way, and as they bent, they hit Potter’s thighs. Harry instinctively stuck his arms underneath Draco’s, catching him before he fell and deepening their kiss. 

When the two broke apart, they were greeted by a stunned silence. Draco definitely felt at a loss, already missing the heat of Potter’s body, whom he suddenly didn’t hate nearly as much as he did thirty seconds ago. Draco leaned over and began to kiss Harry again, this time many times in rapid succession. It was only then that the full impact of what had just transpired hit him. And boy did it hit hard.

Draco detached his lips from Harry’s, backing up slowly. “Wha—what just happened?” he said, backing up until his back hit the tree trunk. He slowly slid down, feeling pieces of the bark breaking off and sticking to the material of his shirt, some digging into the delicate skin of his back.

Harry just stared at him, looking very put out. “Damn,” he muttered, sitting down next to Draco. It was only then that he noticed everyone watching them. “Eh, what’re you staring at?” Harry said shakily, still apparently trying to digest what happened. 

Pansy cleared her throat abruptly. “Well, I think we know who took the Love Potion then! Gosh, I didn’t think of what would happen if the answer were so obvious! Potter, why’d you have to go and kiss him? Now the secret’s spoiled!”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, “but wait, I don’t even know if I took the Potion…” he continued in an undertone, almost talking to himself, his eyes glazing over and his face contorting with concentration as he tried to remember whether or not he’d ever wanted to kiss Malfoy before…

“WHAT?!” Draco screeched, his eyes bulging. “You mean you’ve WANTED to DO THAT before NOW?!” 

Harry screwed up his face in concentration even more. “That’s the thing… I can’t remember!”

Hermione smiled in delight. “That’s the genius of the Love Potion! The drinker cannot tell whether what they’re feeling is their own emotions, or the feelings brought on by the Potion! I suppose that’s why everyone either took that or a Forgetfulness Potion…”

“Thanks so much for your support, Hermione,” Harry muttered darkly, burying his face in his hands. 

“Oh, cheer up everyone!” Pansy interrupted, causing everyone to snap their heads from Harry to herself. “Shall we carry on with the night’s plans?”

She got several nods of agreement, resulting in everyone standing up from where they were on the floor and beginning to walk towards the castle, being led by Hermione. 

Draco couldn’t help feeling unsettled by the fact that no matter where he stood, Harry always somehow ended up walking next to him. Draco would shoot him a purposeful sidelong glance, but Harry just wouldn’t notice. Draco even found himself believing that Harry didn’t realize what he was doing—he just automatically walked towards Draco.

It even got to the point where Harry was physically _clinging_ to Draco’s arm. When Draco felt Harry touch him, he put his hand over Harry’s without thinking, stroking his fingers over the back of Harry’s hand. It was only until Harry was leaning forward to kiss him that he realized what he had been doing. “WHAT AM I THINKING!?” Draco roared, causing the entire group to turn and look at him. 

“Love is in the air, dear,” Pansy said, giggling. 

“Shut up, you cunt,” Draco muttered, sidestepping Harry, who was making another beeline for him. “This is like an alternate universe,” he said, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “Potter’s hitting on me and I’m _enjoying_ it. Eurgh, what’s wrong with me?”

[//]

The plan had been that they’d play the game, then go back inside and have a party in the Room of Requirement. The Slytherins had provided the game, so the Gryffindors got to host the party. Hermione was about to do the honors of walking past the door three times and thinking of what they needed, but Pansy insisted that she do it, because “Granger’s too much of a prude,” as she put it.

Hermione had scowled, but stepped aside anyway, allowing Pansy to activate the room. 

Upon opening the door, the small group took a great, deep breath. It was gigantic. There was a dance floor right in the middle, with a DJ booth right in front of it, complete with strobe lights and such. There also happened to be a table on one side of the room that was littered with bottles looking suspiciously like alcoholic beverages. There were also a few doors in the back of the room that were slightly ajar, revealing several bedrooms. 

“Why so big, Pansy? There’s only ten of us,” Draco asked.

“Oh, the rest of the seventh years should be arriving soon,” she answered pleasantly, casting a spell on the DJ booth so it would work itself. Instantly, a song started blaring through invisible speakers, filling the room with sound.

“What?!” several people exclaimed.

“Oh yes,” Pansy said matter-of-factly, “it was only the ten of us that wanted to play that little game, but I took the liberty of inviting everyone else to this party. The more the merrier, correct? But you all have to swear not to breathe a word about the whole Love Potion thing. They are quite illegal.”

Everybody nodded in agreement. Several moments later, there was a knock on the door, and in streamed the rest of the seventh years. The people already in the room greeted their friends, leading them into the room. Draco, however, remained sitting glumly in the corner, listening to the throbbing beat of the intoxicating music.

Watching everyone have fun like that was really pissing him off. Didn’t anyone care that he was miserable and confused? Draco didn’t exactly like dance parties and such. Although he usually came off as a show off, he was actually quite shy when it came to dancing. So, he parked himself by the… erm… _refreshment_ table, helping himself to a glass of some amber liquid that burned as it went down his throat. 

Draco later decided that this was a dumb idea; he had been hoping to clear his head, and the alcohol did nothing of the sort. Yes, it made him more simple-minded, but not in the way he had been hoping for. This whole thing was just way too confusing for him to handle. Why did he have to go along with Pansy’s hare-brained scheme of the game? Honestly, Draco’s pride got in the way of his well being far too often than should be allowed. 

He really wished that Pansy hadn’t given the rest of the people the Forgetfulness Potion. Because right now, he was sure as hell feeling something towards Potter, and he was just as sure that it wasn’t dislike. Sure, he felt resentment, but he’d felt resentment towards Potter for as long as he could remember. He’d even say that he felt like he’d hated Potter, but what was the reason again? Of course, he was Dumbledore’s Golden Boy. He got everything he wanted whenever he wanted it. He didn’t have a nazi-like father breathing down his neck, making decisions for him. Oh, and the boy had refused his hand in friendship in their first year.

Draco crossed his arms and scowled, recalling the incident. It wasn’t one of his better moments. He had went to school, actually hopeful and excited about possibly meeting Harry Potter, the boy he had heard so much about, and managed to get his father more angry than Draco ever could, no matter how hard he tried. How was it that his father could feel more emotional about a boy he had never met than he did about his own son? Anyway, Draco figured he’d have to be pretty amazing. And he wasn’t disappointed. The boy radiated a child-like innocence that Draco, despite his young age, had never really gotten the chance to enjoy. He had that distinguishing scar, which however much he might have hated, in reality made him so much different from everybody else. Fitting in was overrated, after all. 

After all this build up, though, what happened? The mighty Boy-Who-Lived turned out to be much less saintly than Draco had hoped. He had turned him down, in favor of Ron Weasley, or rather “The Red-Haired Menace,” as Draco referred to him in his mind. Draco’s scowl deepened as he saw the aforementioned redhead leaning against his Mudblood girlfriend, obviously having a good time while Draco was miserable. Suddenly, Draco remembered why he hated Potter in the first place. 

But then again, there was no ignoring that emotion he had felt after Potter had kissed him. What was it? Excitement? Well, maybe, Draco reasoned with himself. He was a seventeen-year-old boy, after all, and he was pretty damn sure that he would have been excited had anyone decent-looking kissed him. Then, belatedly, Draco realized that he had just referred to Potter as decent-looking (in a roundabout way, albeit) and shook himself mentally. But then again…

Draco chose that moment to cast a wary look in Potter’s direction, as if to prove to himself that he felt nothing for the other boy. At first, with a wave of relief, he realized that he felt absolutely nothing when looking at Potter. The other boy was standing in the opposite side of the room, by the other refreshment table, sipping a drink. A few seconds later, Potter must have felt Draco watching him, because he turned to look at him and the two rivals locked eyes. With the same horrified jolt Draco got after realizing he enjoyed kissing Potter, Draco became aware of the fact he was looking forward to a repeat performance. _‘I must have gotten the other Love Potion,’_ Draco tried to assure himself, and it sort of worked. His heart rate slowed slightly. You see, there’s a rational reason for everything. He was attracted to Potter because he had that damned Love Potion coursing through his veins. This wasn’t necessarily a good thing; Draco now had to endure two months of being “in love” with Potter. But at least it would be over soon, right? Sure, it would be torturous, but on the bright side…

Draco thought for a moment, but couldn’t think of a bright side. 

He slowly took another gulp of his drink.

_‘Well, this’ll be fun,’_ Draco thought dejectedly, _‘I’ll just watch everyone dance the night away while slowly getting smashed, and I won’t remember any of it in the morning!’_

Yes, Draco’s plan was going along quite nicely. That is, until a decidedly tipsy-looking Harry Potter grabbed his hand and suddenly dragged him onto the dance floor. Draco was slightly startled at the fact that he didn’t notice the other boy coming up; he supposed he was more drunk than he thought. 

“P – Potter!” Draco hissed into Harry’s ear. “What do you think you’re doing? People will stare!”

“Who cares?” Harry said, his voice slurring slightly. “Besides, nobody’s watching. They’re all too busy with their own thing.” 

“Good point,” Draco said, starting to give in to the beat, and the dance floor that seemed to be beckoning to him. 

Throughout the first song, Draco kind of just stiffly moved his body to the music, not touching Harry at all. If there was any physical contact between the two, Harry had initiated it. However, after a few songs, Draco discovered that several people were coming up to him with hungry looks on their faces, handing him more and more drinks. It was rude to refuse, Draco thought, so he drank every one of them. Soon, Draco found he didn’t have many inhibitions left, and when a song he really liked came on, he found himself practically jumping on Harry. 

Well, Harry had been wrong. Yes, people were busy with their own things, but apparently not busy enough to not notice the fact that two archrivals (both boys, as well) were all over each other on the dance floor. Neither Harry nor Draco really seemed to care, however. In their drunken state, they were even enjoying all the attention. Draco didn’t really understand why, but people kept handing him more and more drinks, but he still wasn’t complaining. He liked the way his brain sort of buzzed and numbed as the liquid went along his throat, burning all the way down. 

The last coherent thoughts Draco had had been wondering why everyone was cheering and catcalling when Potter started to kiss him again… and boy did it feel good, this time without a question.

[//]

It was very odd, waking up the next morning, for the last thing Draco remembered was being at the party, completely smashed. His first thoughts this morning when he first gained consciousness, however, was that this must be what a terrible hangover feels like. Draco groaned, cracking his eyes open slightly in order to try and discern what time it might be. Judging by the _really bright light_ (too bright, in his opinion), it was around nine o’clock. As soon as this was determined, Draco snapped his eyes shut again and tried to lift his arm in order to rub the pounding headache from his temples. When Draco first realized he couldn’t lift his arm, he thought that it was because all his limbs felt so heavy from the hangover. However, when he wriggled slightly to test his range of motion, he came to the sudden realization that he was laying on top of something quite solid, and uncomfortable.

With growing horror and dread, Draco slowly looked down at the arm that he had tried to move, but couldn’t. He had to suppress a cry of terror when he saw another arm draped over his own. Well, that explained why he had trouble moving it. 

Draco felt panic start to grow in the pit of his stomach as he willed himself to open his eyes wider in order to observe his surroundings. This was _not_ his bedroom. While he inhabited a room draped in the colors green and silver, red dominated this room. His first thought was that this must be the Gryffindor dorm (the horror!) but then he realized that he was in the only bed in the whole room, and he was certain that wasn’t how it went. 

Next, Draco checked out his current state. He was frightened when he saw that he had no top on, but he quickly realized that he wasn’t naked on the bottom as well, but had his boxers on still. That didn’t exactly guarantee anything, but it did make him feel a bit better. 

Next was the part he was dreading: Whom was he laying in bed with? Although Draco already had a pretty good idea, as he remembered quite a bit from yesterday if not everything, he decided he’d better check anyway. It seemed as if he and the other person were laying in the same direction, and he was pressed against the other person’s front. The person, whom Draco was certain was a boy, had his arms around Draco in a very loving fashion. Draco gulped as he steeled himself for the shock, turning around slowly to face the boy who was holding him.

He was immediately face to face with Harry Potter himself, complete with tousled hair and lightning bolt scar. Draco let out a deep breath that he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He wasn’t sure if this was out of relief or resignation, but he could work with it either way. 

Potter was still dozing peacefully, but his grip had tightened around Draco’s waist when he felt him move. Draco weighed his options. He could either silently leave the bed without rousing Potter and get out as fast as possible, wake Potter up and demand an explanation, or lay here and _wait_ for Potter to wake up, and then they could snog until—wait. 

Draco mentally slapped himself at even thinking of such a ludicrous thing. He quickly reminded himself that this was _Potter_ he was thinking about, and he should be praying that his boxers had stayed on the entire night. 

Yes. Potter. Bad. 

Draco weighed his options _again,_ this time leaving out the snogging one, that had unfortunately slipped in. He decided that choice two was his best bet, because he didn’t fancy seeing Potter later on without knowing exactly what transpired last night. 

So, he turned his attention back to the dark-haired teenager with his arms around him (which Draco didn’t get a warm, fuzzy feeling from _at all,_ mind you). He propped himself up on his elbows, still facing Potter, contemplating how to wake him. He seemed so peaceful, and it really was a shame to disturb him, but Draco needed answers. _Now._

“Potter,” Draco whispered very quietly, not wanting to re-awaken the splitting headache that had just started to ebb away, if only slightly. Harry didn’t move. “Potter!” Draco said a little louder, and a little more insistently. 

The boy still didn’t move a muscle. 

“POTTER! Wake up, goddamnit!” Draco screeched, a little louder than he had intended. But only a little, I swear.

At that, the other young man jolted awake, looking around confusedly, sporting the same grimace Draco’s hangover had given him. Draco sighed out of relief. “Thank God, I thought I was going to have to get a foghorn.”

“Who’s there?” Potter mumbled vaguely, squinting against the bright light, trying to figure out whom it was he was trying to get into focus. 

“Who do you think, you twit? Do you take someone different to bed with you every night? Here… put your ruddy glasses on!” Draco said impatiently, reaching over Harry’s dazed form to grab his glasses off the night table and hand them to their owner. Potter placed them on his face, rubbing his eyes underneath them and blinking several times before recognition dawned on him.

“Draco?” he said softly, reaching his hand towards Draco’s face. Draco flinched and pushed the hand away.

“Since when have I been ‘Draco’ to you, Potter?” he said bitterly, noticing with no small amount of relief that Potter, although shirtless, was also wearing his boxers. Despite his resentful words, Draco couldn’t help feeling a slight fleeting spark of hope, or happiness, or excitement, or _something_ at the sound of Potter using his first name. 

Potter just blinked, stupidly Draco decided, and reached out one of his hands to touch Draco’s arm. Again, Draco flinched but did not pull away this time out of curiosity. “You’re so cold,” Potter said distractedly, rather than answering Draco’s earlier question. And with a look of concern, he reached behind Draco and pulled the blankets over Draco’s shoulders, wrapping them around him snugly. 

“Thanks,” Draco said carefully, eyeing Potter suspiciously. “Listen, as much as I’m enjoying this tender moment, I’d like to ask you what the _fuck_ happened last night, because I can’t remember a bloody thing.” 

Harry thought for a moment, looking slightly sad. “You don’t remember anything? Remember, we played that game, and then there was a party…”

“Potter, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about. I remember all that stuff, so apparently I have to ask you straight out, because you’ve obviously taken slow pills this morning. Did we or did we not have sex?” 

“Oh,” Potter mumbled, blushing slightly. “Um, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we were too drunk to do anything like that.” 

Draco made a show of letting out a monumental sigh of relief. “Right then. I’ll be off, if you don’t mind…” 

“Wait!” Potter cried as Draco made a move to get out of bed. “I do mind!” 

Draco froze and blinked a few times. “Wh— _what?_ ”

“Draco, stay with me,” Potter whispered, startling Draco considerably. 

“ _Why?_ ” Draco said incredulously, his frustration practically bringing him to tears. 

“Because… I love you.” 

Draco froze, shock seemingly paralyzing him. Suddenly, all the memories of last night came flooding back to him. The game. The fucking _Love Potion._ He had forgotten about that part. The party. The people _staring at them._ “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…” Draco had started unconsciously mumbling, running his fingers through his hair as he went.

Abruptly, his little episode ended, and he snapped back to attention, turning his gaze away from the wall and back on Potter’s heartbroken face. “Listen to me, Potter. You don’t love me. You _hate me,_ remember?” Draco felt as if he were talking to a small child who had a crush on him. “This… _love_ you’re feeling, it’s not real. Do you remember the Potion you took last night?”

Potter looked thoughtful for another moment, then nodded, still looking miserable. “But I can’t remember if I felt that way before I took it or not!” he moaned, rocking back and forth almost imperceptibly. 

“Pull yourself together, Potter, for God’s sake,” Draco mumbled, placing a firm hand on Potter’s shoulder. This served to be a bad idea, for the moment their skin made contact, Potter’s eyes shot open wide, and before Draco could even register what was about to happen, Potter was upon him, kissing him passionately, and prying Draco’s lips open with his tongue. 

Again, Draco found he wasn’t too inclined to stop Potter’s ministrations. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and so did Potter, so why fight it? He soon found out why, for he suddenly felt something hard pressing up against his leg, and it most definitely wasn’t his wand. 

Draco quickly broke their kiss, spluttering indignantly. “Potter!” he barked. “What do you think you’re doing!?” Potter moaned in frustration, trying to re-attach himself to Draco’s mouth. When Draco refused to let him, he settled for latching onto Draco’s neck, biting and sucking on that _very_ sensitive spot right behind his ear. 

“P – Potter! Pot – … oooohhh…” Draco didn’t seem to be able to protest any longer, and he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself, either. He found himself thinking things such as “how on Earth did he learn to do that?” and, “if only I had known Potter’s mouth could do such wondrous things…” However, Draco’s blissful mental blabber only lasted for so long. He was soon snapped back to reality by the same insistent pressing against his leg that he had felt less than a minute earlier, coupled with the horrifying realization that he himself was getting turned on. 

“OKAY, YOU’RE GOING TO STOP THAT NOW!” Draco yelled, panicking slightly as he threw Potter off him. “Oh Merlin,” Draco practically sobbed, burying his head in his hands, “what is wrong with me?” 

Potter was still staring at him, looking deliciously tousled with his head cocked to one side out of confusion. That might have been his dominant emotion, but he couldn’t hide the obvious disappointment. 

Draco took a moment to clear his head. “Okay, Potter. I really do have to go now. I have to clear my head, and take a shower. I’m covered in sweat, and frankly I don’t think it’s just mine. I also happen to have a hangover from hell, as I’m sure you’re experiencing as well, so I have to go find some sort of spell or potion to ease my pain. Goodbye.” Draco said all this in monotone, an air of shock surrounding him. 

Again, just as Draco was about to leave the room, Harry grabbed his arm. “Wait. We obviously have to talk about… what just happened,” he said, his tone of voice screaming desperation. Apparently he was grabbing for any sort of chance that Draco would stay. Draco found this endearing, but wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself. 

“I just told you, Potter, why I have to go. Now, if you’ll kindly remove your hand from my arm, I’ll be on my way.” 

“But… we’re still in the Room Of Requirement, I’m sure you can find everything you need right here!” Potter said, never taking his eyes off Draco.

Draco realized that Potter was quite right, and he found this idea very tempting. Frankly, he had no idea where to start when it came to the solution to his hangover, and he was certain the room would have one of he did not. Draco sighed in resignation. “Fine. How do I make this thing work?”

Harry perked up considerably at these words. “You just wish really hard for something, and it’ll show up,” he explained logically, waiting for Draco to follow his instructions.

Draco closed his eyes tightly and focused on his hangover, wishing it away. Once he opened his eyes, there was a vial of potion standing up on his bedside table. He eyed it suspiciously, shooting Potter a wary look. When Potter nodded encouragingly, Draco picked up the vial carefully and tipped it down his throat, grimacing at the taste. However, a few seconds later, he already felt signs of his hangover clearing up. He sighed in relief, stretching and finally getting out of bed without being stopped.

“Well, it worked,” he informed Harry, who eagerly started wishing for his own vial of the stuff. “I’m off to shower. Can this room make that appear, too?” Draco liked the idea of staying in the room more and more as he thought about it; he wasn’t quite sure whether or not he was ready to face the rest of his year after that clearly embarrassing display at yesterday’s party. 

Harry nodded in answer to his question while drinking down the liquid he had wished for. “It should work, yeah.”

Draco tried, and sure enough, a door appeared on the wall. When Draco opened it, he saw that it lead to an impossibly large bathroom, complete with soap, shampoo, towels, and fresh clothes. He made to close the door, but opened it slightly to look at Potter first. “You don’t have to stay, you know,” he said carefully, hoping that Potter would in fact leave. 

“No, I want to,” he said, obviously clueless to Draco’s discomfort. 

“Fine,” Draco said, not wanting to argue. He closed the door tightly and locked it, slumping against it once he was sure it wasn’t going to open. His head was swimming with impossible thoughts; thoughts that Draco had been certain he’d never have to think. It was very obvious to him that Potter wanted nothing more than to be with him, and honestly Draco had no idea why he was putting up so much of a fight. Maybe it had something to do with that goddamned pride that always seemed to get in the way of everything. Or maybe… Draco didn’t know what to think. This was possibly the most confused he’d ever been in his life, and that was saying something.

This just simply _wasn’t supposed to happen._ What happened to hating Potter, dreading seeing his face, enjoying tormenting him, and wishing he would die? With a surprised jolt, Draco realized he had _never_ thought any of those things. He really hadn’t ever dreaded seeing Potter’s face; in fact, he always enjoyed their confrontations. He saw it as a challenge. And he didn’t enjoy tormenting _Potter;_ he enjoyed tormenting Potter’s _friends._ Also, he couldn’t remember one time that he wished Potter would die. His life would be boring without Potter to bug. 

So… what harm could come out of giving this whole thing a chance? Even though Draco perhaps didn’t ever _hate_ Potter, he was pretty damn sure he had never been attracted to him, so he _must_ have been the other one to get the Love Potion last night. So… maybe the two of them could have a two-month fling, until the potion wore off, and then he could go back to resenting Potter, and Potter could go back to ignoring him. And maybe he could even get some sex out of the deal. Draco cackled at his maniacal plan as he turned on the shower and stepped in. Today promised to be interesting.

[//]

Meanwhile, in a newly wished-for bathroom, Harry wasn’t faring much better confusion-wise. Like Draco, he had taken advantage of the solitude and got to some way-overdue thinking. This whole thing… it just couldn’t be good. Harry marveled at the fact that he always managed to get himself into trouble one way or another, and it always ended up hurting him more than anyone else. Because this was hurting _very_ badly. The part of the whole thing that unnerved him the most was the fact that he wasn’t even sure if he had taken the Love Potion or not. He hadn’t given it a second thought at first last night, when he got up to kiss Draco, he just did it because he didn’t want to be called a coward, and Draco had been the only one in the circle that he found himself attracted to at that moment. However, after the initial kiss, he felt something embedded somewhere in his chest (or was it the pit of his stomach?) start to grow, and branch out so that suddenly, every time he got to touch Draco, every fiber of his being wanted to do more than just touch.

Now, this confusion thing was deeper than just figuring out whether or not he had taken the Potion. Harry had just gotten over his whole Questioning-His-Sexuality episode late last year, and had finally come to terms with the fact that he was probably bisexual, although he still wasn’t so sure. Now, Malfoy turned all that reasoning upside down and backwards. Now, whenever he tried to think of someone that he was attracted to—gender regardless—all he could think of was Malfoy. Harry wasn’t supposed to fall for his rival. Especially when he already had a girlfriend. 

Earlier this year, Harry and Ginny had decided to try and give their relationship another shot, but in Harry’s opinion, it wasn’t working out. This time, for completely different reasons. The truth was, whatever he had felt for Ginny last year was gone now, however bad he felt about it. Ginny was his friend and he didn’t want to hurt her, but he was going to have to do _something_ if he wanted to try and get together with Draco, which wasn’t looking too promising, mind you. Ginny would throw an absolute _fit_ if she knew that Harry had been extremely close to having sex with Draco Malfoy while he was dating her. The truth was, Harry had lied about the reason for the two of them not doing anything the night before. The real reasons were much different (he remembered, because he was significantly less drunk than Draco had been). First of all, Harry knew Malfoy didn’t know that he had a girlfriend, and he had intended to keep it that way (although at the moment, he was reconsidering). Himself and Ginny had decided that in order to prevent something awful from happening, they’d have to pretend that they weren’t dating. It actually worked out quite well, to Harry’s initial delight. The only problem was that now he didn’t have a good reason to break up with her. 

The other reason he and Malfoy hadn’t went all the way was quite funny, actually. Moments before they started to mindlessly shag, Draco had suddenly realized what they were about to do, and he totally freaked out. In his fragile emotional state because of all the alcohol he had consumed, he had even started to cry. Harry sniggered when he thought about it now; Malfoy had sounded like a girl about to give up her virginity. He couldn’t remember anything that Draco had specifically said, but he remembered it was very tearful and panicky, and he was wringing his hands a lot. If worse came to worse, he could use that particular memory as blackmail so Malfoy wouldn’t spread rumors about him.

But even after considering all this, the question still remained: Was Harry really one of the ones who had taken the Love Potion? _‘Relax,’_ he told himself, _‘I’m sure I was. But even if I wasn’t, then neither was Malfoy, because he’s acting quite similar to the way I am.’_ Once Harry was done mulling all this over, he had finished washing himself. He turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. 

A few minutes later, he walked out of the room with a towel around his waist (he had forgotten to bring the fresh clothes he had wished for into the bathroom) to find Draco staring at him, a hungry look appearing on his face as he drank in Harry’s appearance. 

“What are you looking at?” Harry mumbled, blushing furiously. 

This seemed to snap Draco out of whatever trance he had managed to fall into, so he quickly blinked and shook his head. “Nothing, nothing,” he murmured. “Listen, Potter,” he started, slightly louder this time, “I think we have to talk about this… I have something to say.”

“Draco, can’t this wait until after I’ve gotten dressed?” Harry said, still blushing, pulling his towel tighter around him self-consciously.

“No, I’ve got to say it now, before I lose my nerve,” Draco answered immediately, grimacing inwardly. Harry nodded in an understanding fashion, waiting for Draco to continue. “This isn’t too easy to say, but ever since you kissed me that first time yesterday… I’ve felt very weird. And not good-weird either, I mean confused-weird. The bottom line is, I think I’m the one who’s gotten the other Love Potion.” Draco said all this very slowly and quietly, as if he were almost hoping Harry wouldn’t hear him.

Harry looked at him for a few moments and blinked. “Well, yeah, I kind of already figured that out. I can’t see why else you’d kiss me back, you _hated_ me.”

“Well it wasn’t so easy for _me_ to figure out,” Draco mumbled resentfully, but just shook his head at Harry’s inquisitive raised eyebrow. Now worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he continued. “My point is… well, since we’re both under the effects of the Potion, these two months would probably go a lot faster if we were to… maybe… have something of a relationship.” When he saw Harry open his mouth to interject, he quickly said, “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. In fact, it’d probably be better if it weren’t. But you know… just to make us feel better until the Potion wears off.” 

Harry’s mouth broke out into a grin as he realized what Draco was saying. “Malfoy… are you _asking me out?_ ” he said, almost incredulously. 

“Er, in so many words… yeah, I suppose.” This was the most nervous Harry had ever seen the other boy, and he decided he really liked this side of him. He guessed it was an effect of the Potion, but for some reason, everything Draco did just made Harry want to pounce on him. He was about to do just that, when suddenly he remembered the problem he had been contemplating while he was in the shower. There was something about Draco that made him forget what he was thinking, and this was no exception. 

“Draco, of course I’d—” he had started, but cut himself off with a sigh. “Wait… no, I can’t.”

“WHAT!?” Draco roared, making Harry flinch. “How… WHY!? You were practically _begging_ for it earlier, and now you’re saying NO!? I’ve _humiliated_ myself for NOTHING!?”

Harry’s heart broke, seeing Draco this upset. Before Draco could gather his bearings, he was suddenly laying down with his back pressed to the bed he had been sitting on with Harry on top of him, kissing him. Harry completely forgot himself the moment their lips made contact. Before he knew what was going on, he had his hand underneath Draco’s shirt, stroking his stomach. He had been about to go for the next step and shove his hand down Draco’s trousers, but Draco made an indignant noise from underneath him, and Harry winced, pulling away.

“Would you quit leading me on?” Draco moaned, half out of frustration, half out of exasperation. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice dripping sincerity, “I _want_ to have a relationship with you. More than anything else, right now, in fact. That _really_ scares me, but still. It’s just that… I already have a girlfriend!” Harry said the last part in a rush of words, his cheeks flushing red. He buried his face in his hands, not wanting to see Draco’s reaction.

“W—what?” he said, blinking furiously. “I’m not even sure if I still want to date you after hearing that, if that’s how you treat the people you go out with! Potter, _we almost had sex last night!_ What were you _thinking?_ ”

“I was thinking that I really should get around to breaking up with her, because I honestly don’t give a shit about her _that way_ anymore,” Harry said before he could stop himself. 

Draco looked like he was pretty much about to explode. “POTTER! YOU IDIOT! WHY HAVEN’T YOU DONE IT YET?” he said, extremely frustrated. Bloody Gryffindors, he’d never understand them.

“Because she’s my _friend,_ Draco!” Harry said miserably, “And Ron would kill me!” As soon as those words left his mouth, he clapped his hands over it, not believing he let that slip. 

“ _You’re dating the Weaselette?_ ” Draco said incredulously, jealousy flaring up behind his gray eyes. “I thought you two broke up last year!” 

“We decided to give it another go,” Harry explained, not wanting to go into the finer details of _why_ exactly he and Ginny broke up. 

“Well, you better end it soon, before I take matters into my own hands!” Draco said, with every intention of following through with his threat. In fact, he figured he might take it into his own hands _anyway,_ not even giving Potter a chance to do it himself. As he thought this, a plan started to hatch in his mind…

[//]

After a while, Draco finally got up the courage to leave the Room Of Requirement. Him and Potter had already missed breakfast by a long shot, but he was starving, so he hurried off to the Great Hall for lunch, because according to his watch, it had already started.

As soon as he walked in, the majority of the seventh years turned to stare at him. He silently prayed that Potter wasn’t dumb enough to walk in immediately after him, because that would just confirm everyone’s suspicion. Draco tried to ignore the imploring stares he was getting as he made his way over to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Pansy. 

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with amusement as Draco blatantly ignored her questioning gaze. Finally, she decided it was no use, and that she’d have to verbalize her question, otherwise Draco would just continue to pretend he didn’t know what she was doing. “So… where were _you_ last night? I heard from Blaise you didn’t return to your dorm _at all._ ”

“ _Pansy,_ ” Draco moaned, “do I have to tell you? I’m pretty sure you already know!”

Pansy began to giggle ceaselessly, and every time she caught her breath, she just wound up giggling again when she looked at Draco. “So how was it? Is The-Boy-Who-Lived a good shag?” 

“ _PANSY!_ ” Draco said again, blushing at her blunt question. “We didn’t do _that!_ What kind of guy do you think I _am?_ ” 

“Oh,” Pansy said, sounding distinctly disappointed. “Oh well, there will be other times. I’ll have to throw another party so you can get Potter drunk and shag him.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Draco said, sounding slightly proud, “Potter practically jumped me when I asked if he’d be my boyfriend.” 

“Wh – _what?_ ” Pansy said, all amusement gone from her voice. “That’s not how it’s supposed to go.” She looked quite serious, which was rare for her. 

“What do you mean?” Draco said, annoyed. 

“Draco, think about it. Potter’s taken a Love Potion. So have you, it would seem. If you get into a relationship, it’d be based on, well, plastic feelings, for lack of better words. Love Potions only create the _illusion_ of love, and it will wear off after two months. What’ll happen then? You won’t care about Potter anymore, and I hate to break it to you, but he won’t care about you either. You will have wasted two months of your life with someone you normally cannot stand. Do you think you’ll be able to live with yourself once this wears off? Do you think _he’ll_ be able to live with _himself?_ ” 

“I don’t talk to you so you can give me a lecture on morals, Pansy,” Draco said scathingly, completely unaffected by her little speech. Pansy frowned, but remained silent as Draco continued. “Don’t you think the two months will be a lot easier if we become involved? I’m sure you’ve experienced unrequited love before, and I’m sure you know it isn’t all that much fun. Why suffer when it actually _isn’t_ unrequited? We’re just having a bit of fun, is all!” Draco said this with confidence, but Pansy saw the spark of worry behind his careless expression.

“Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” Pansy said dryly. “I’m telling you, someone is going to wind up with his heart stomped into the dirt. There’s no such thing as a relationship with no emotional consequences after the fact.” 

“Well, this’ll be a first then, won’t it?” Draco snarled, refusing to even look at Pansy for the rest of lunch. Then again, he thought about it for a bit, and he realized someone was going to get their heart stomped into the dirt. But there was no chance in hell it’d be he… or Potter for that matter. No, it was going to be the Weaselette, and he was going to make sure of that. 

As if the fates were listening to his thoughts, at that moment, the girl had walked into the room, closely followed by Granger. Draco was even graced with a snippet of their conversation.

“I don’t know, Hermione… do you really think I should ask him what’s wrong?” Ginny was saying in an undertone, but despite her precautions, her voice still carried.

“Definitely,” Hermione affirmed, although Draco could tell she was worried by the look on her face. Ginny didn’t know about the Love Potion, and nobody was allowed to tell, because Pansy had locked them all with a magical promise. Draco laughed inwardly; this was going to be too easy. 

“Thanks, Herm,” Ginny was saying, smiling at her friend. “I’ll see you later, okay?” Draco was disappointed for a moment; it looked as if Ginny were going to go directly to the Gryffindor table, and he wouldn’t have a chance to follow through with his plan. However, she stopped at the Ravenclaw table first to have a chat with one of her friends, apparently… perfect.

[//]

Harry was innocently enjoying his lunch when, all of a sudden, he saw several heads snap upwards, staring at a point behind him. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Ron, who was sitting across from him, and happened to be one of the people staring. Ron just simply made a sharp jerk with his head in the direction he was looking, signaling Harry to turn around, so he did. He immediately saw what everyone had been staring at; Draco was marching towards him, a broad (decidedly evil) grin on his face.

Harry stared some more, trying to repress the emotions that were bubbling up inside his stomach, as a result of the Love Potion.

Draco sniggered and put his hand in his pocket, feeling the small bottle of Truth Potion he had stored there. It wasn’t nearly as strong as Veritaserum; it made the drinker tell the truth, but aside from that, they completely retained their personality. Very convenient, for they wouldn’t know what hit them until later, when it wore off. 

Draco got up from the Slytherin table and quickly walked towards the Gryffindor one, attracting several stares from fellow seventh years as he did so. His smirk widened; this’d just help his plan.

Once Draco had gotten in front of Harry, he gave the boy a small nod and muttered, “Potter.”

When Harry didn’t answer, but merely stared at Draco, he continued. “What? Aren’t you going to say hello to me?”

“Er, hi, M—Malfoy,” Harry said, struggling on Draco’s last name; he obviously felt more comfortable using his first one lately.

“Why thank you, Potter, I will have a seat,” Draco said in an obnoxious fashion, making a show of taking the seat next to Harry. Draco could see Harry struggling against the effects of the Love Potion, and frankly, Draco wasn’t doing too well himself. He’d just have to do what he had to and be off, then.

When Draco stared at Harry for several moments, and all Harry did was blink with a pained look on his face, Draco heaved a heavy sigh. “What pleasurable company you are, Potter. I’ll see you around.” While everyone’s gaze was on Draco’s face, he popped the cork out of the vial in his pocket, getting it into his hand. It was so small that if he closed his fist around it, no one would see it, so that was exactly what he did. While he got up, he made sure to turn his hand upside down over Harry’s glass of pumpkin juice, not looking at it so he wouldn’t draw attention to what he had done.

Sure enough, nobody seemed to notice that Harry’s glass contained something a bit more potent than pumpkin juice. Draco slipped back to the Slytherin table, watching Harry from afar and rubbing his hands together excitedly as he saw him drain the contents of his glass just as Ginny took the seat that Draco had previously occupied. 

It was then that he realized that it had been a bad idea to sit down back at the Slytherin table, for how would he eavesdrop from all the way across the room? Draco strode back toward the Gryffindor table, making it look like he was headed for the doors. Right when he passed by a large potted plant, he pretended to have dropped something, and bent down to “look for it.” He stayed in that position, hidden behind the plant, as the youngest Weasley started to talk to her hopefully-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. 

“Harry, I’ve noticed something a bit… funny with you lately,” the girl was saying gently, getting a little closer to Harry than Draco would have liked. He cursed the wretched Potion for making him jealous so damn easily. 

“Oh?” Harry answered, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yes,” Ginny said firmly. “Is there anything going on? Something you’d like to _tell me about?_ ” Draco was surprised to hear a hint of a threat in the girl’s voice. Maybe he had underestimated her…

“There’s something going on, but I really don’t want to tell you about it,” Harry said honestly, as the Potion Draco had just slipped him made him answer automatically. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’d get _really mad,_ ” Harry said, not even realizing what he was saying.

“ _Oh would I?_ ” Ginny said, her voice now definitely taking a dangerous edge. “Hm, I think we should maybe take this conversation _outside._ ” And with that, she grabbed Harry’s upper arm and began hauling him bodily from the Great Hall. Draco sniggered, following them closely, but not so closely that he would be detected. He now crouched behind a large statue that they were standing near, still hidden from their view. 

“Now, Harry,” Ginny had started, her face turning red to match her hair, “where were you all last night, and this morning? I don’t remember seeing you come back to the common room, and when I asked Ron if he’d seen you, he said _no._ ”

“Oh, I was in the Room Of Requirement,” Harry said innocently.

“ _All night?_ ” Ginny prodded.

“Yes, all night. It was quite comfortable, actually.”

“And, who did you spend the night _with?_ ” Ginny said, looking proud of herself, thinking she would catch Harry off guard. Draco sniggered at her stupidity; if Harry had been in his right mind and wanted to avoid answering that question, he would have found away. But, luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it), he had fallen victim to the Truth Potion. Draco suppressed a cackle and listened for the explosion.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry said, answering her earlier question without elaborating. He simply had the same unconcerned look in his eyes as he had for the rest of their conversation.

Ginny stared at him for a few moments before registering what she heard. “Harry… you _are_ joking, aren’t you? Mind you, I’m going to kill you for even _suggesting_ such a thing, that you’d spend the night with _that Malfoy scum_ rather than me.” Although Ginny’s words suggested otherwise, her face was breaking out into full-blown panic. She seemed to be calculating; what if Harry _had_ been telling the truth? 

Draco looked at his watch nervously; it had been ten minutes since Harry had taken the Potion, and it’d only last for another five. He just hoped Ginny could have her explosion and storm away before then, so Harry wouldn’t have a chance to smooth things over.

“No, Gin, I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie to you?” he said, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. 

Ginny glared at him for a few moments before turning on her heel and beginning to swoop away. However, she seemed to think differently of this as she saw people start pouring into the corridor they were in. Harry couldn’t see this, but Draco noticed that she now had an evil grin on her face, very reminiscent of Draco himself.

“Harry, how could you?!” she said loudly and dramatically, but just enough so to draw attention. Sure enough, her plan was working—the people coming down the corridor stopped to watch what was going on between the two Gryffindors.

“I trusted you,” she said, her voice trembling, “and you go and do this?”

“Yes, well I was going to break up with you anyway,” Harry said, anger now entering his voice. 

Ginny gave another fake sob before barreling into the crowd away from Harry, covering her face to hide her suspicious lack of tears. A few of the people in the crowd ran after her—they were apparently her friends—but the others scattered quickly and walked away. 

Harry stared after her, a confused look on his face. Draco didn’t dare get up quite yet, for if he did Harry would see him. However, Draco was getting nervous, for the Potion was going to wear off any minute, and Harry would realize what just happened. Harry didn’t seem too concerned with moving though, so Draco began to get more and more anxious. 

Harry briefly turned away from the statue Draco was behind, so Draco decided to make a mad dash for the nearest door. Unluckily for him, Harry turned back around before he could run out of sight.

“Draco, where did you come from?” he said, confused.

Draco froze, cursing his bad luck. Instead of answering Harry, he looked at his watch. _‘Three… two… one…’_ Draco thought, bracing himself for the explosion.

Sure enough, comprehension dawned on Harry’s face, as he recalled what happened, looking from Draco to the statue he had just been hiding behind, his eyes narrowing angrily.

“Did you do something to me that made me say those things?”

“Come on, would I do that?” Draco said, making a feeble attempt to avoid Harry’s anger.

“Yes, you would, in fact,” Harry said.

“But Potter, you couldn’t do it yourself! I just helped you along a bit!”

“Yeah, but now she’s hurt!” Harry said, biting his lip. “We were friends, and now that’s all ruined because of _you!_ ” Harry glared at Draco, waiting for his excuse.

“But _Harry!_ ” Draco reasoned. “I just did it because I wanted to be with you!” At these words, Harry’s expression softened, if only slightly. 

“Well, alright. I forgive you, if you put it that way.”

“Does that mean you accept my offer?” Draco said hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, pushing Draco against the statue he had been hiding behind, in order to snog him senseless once again.

[//]

**  


[End Of Chapter One]

  
**

(A/N): Well, I thought my idea was pretty original. For a while, the chapters might be somewhat fluffy, and have their own plots. But it’s all part of the bigger picture, I assure you. I just have to keep them busy for two months, until the Potion wears off, then things _really_ start to get interesting. Right, please review, I really love this story and I’m excited about it, and I’ll get really depressed if nobody else likes it. REVIEW!

[XOXO Princesspepper OXOX]


	2. The Potential For Disaster

Title: Russian Roulette

Author: Princesspepper

Rating: T

**_WARNINGS:_** Slash, Ginny bashing, language, mild sexual content (mostly just discussions and lots of snogging), and **_SPOILERS IN THIS CHAPTER_** (see the red lights flash?)!

(A/N): Thank you, everyone who reviewed! Just a warning, are HBP spoilers in this chapter.

****

[Chapter Two: The Potential For Disaster]

**_(Four months earlier…)_ **

“Hermione… what are _you_ doing here?” Harry spat vehemently at his bushy-haired friend as she walked through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron, swiveling in his chair so he could see her.

“Honestly! What kind of greeting is that? I’m looking for _you,_ of course!” she answered, taking the seat beside Harry at the bar. 

“Well, I figured _that…_ but how did you find me?”

“I just asked around. People had seen you around here, so I was able to track you down.” She said quietly.

“Haven’t you figured out that maybe I didn’t _want_ to be tracked down? There are some things a guy has to do on his own.” Harry said tersely, eying Hermione warily. 

“I know, and I respect that. I’ll leave, and I won’t come looking for you again, if that’s what you want. But first you have to let me say my part.” Hermione said, an air of confidence about her, as if she had planned out exactly what she was going to say beforehand (which she probably had, Harry thought).

Harry exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves, which currently felt as if they were being shredded against a blunt cheese grater. “Fine,” he said coldly, settling back in his chair and clutching his glass of fire whiskey so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

Hermione sighed, relieved that Harry was at least going to hear her out. “Thank you.” She said curtly, taking a deep breath before going into her persuasive speech. “Look, I remember what you said last month about… having to stay out of school in order to do what you feel you have to. And I still stand by what I said about going anywhere you have to go with you. It’s just that… I’m starting to think that it may not be so wise for you to completely abandon your schooling.”

“Hermione, there are some things more important than _school!_ ” Harry said angrily, glaring at her.

“I know, Harry, I know!” She continued, starting to get upset. “But I still think…” she paused for a moment, getting her bearings. “I still think that you will be able to do all the things you have to while still staying at school. Even though Dumbledore’s… well… gone, Hogwarts is still a very safe place. I know that last year, Malfoy proved that there are still ways to get into the school, but that cabinet has since been destroyed, for very good reason.” Hermione paused at this point to gauge Harry’s reaction.

He was sort of staring off into space, absent-mindedly swirling the liquid in his glass. “Malfoy…” he said wistfully, “I wonder what’s become of him? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I sort of feel bad for him, you know? He kind of… didn’t have a choice. It’s not fair, Hermione. It’s not fair for him… or for any of us, for that matter. We’re all thrown into this horrible war… and we have no choice but to take sides. Either that, or we die, and that’s not much of a choice at all, is it?”

“No… it isn’t,” Hermione affirmed, looking concerned at the expression on Harry’s face. He looked pretty close to tears, but she knew he would never let himself cry in front of her. “But, I suppose we do have somewhat of a choice. It all comes down to whether or not we take the right side, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed after a short silence, “but still… some of us don’t even have _that_ choice. Look at Malfoy, for example. He was practically born with the Dark Mark already burned onto his arm. Didn’t even _question_ it…” Harry’s voice trailed off bitterly at the thought of his rival.

“Actually, Harry, he did.” Hermione said quietly.

Harry looked up at her at this. “What?” he said sharply, furrowing his brow.

“I know this sounds… well, unbelievable, but Malfoy came to Professor McGonagall shortly after school ended, and begged for her to let him join the Order, and keep him from Voldemort. Apparently he felt horrible about what happened in June, and decided to take up Professor Dumbledore’s offer. She agreed, of course.”

Harry was silent for a few minutes, recalling a few of his many encounters with Malfoy from the previous year. There was that time where he found Malfoy crying in the washroom about his mission… hadn’t he said something about not being able to do it? And then, of course, was the moment in which he was supposed to carry through with his orders… and he’d been _so_ close to accepting Dumbledore’s offer to allow himself to be hidden from Voldemort. Harry remembered his own surprise at the look on Malfoy’s face—the boy didn’t seem the type to show any remorse at any of his bad deeds, but he truly looked terrified at the prospect of having to kill another human being. 

Up until this point, Harry had been really unsure about his feelings regarding Malfoy. He sure as hell didn’t suddenly like the boy—there was just too much that he’d have to forget in order to come to that conclusion. But some of his hatred for the other boy had definitely dissipated since the incident in June; for the first time, Harry was able to see Malfoy as an actual human with actual emotions, instead of a horrible little monster. There’s just something about seeing someone cry that humanizes him in your eyes. 

But then there was the fact that the Slytherin had departed with Snape after he had done the horrible deed—that was just too incriminating, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to look past this fact. But now that Hermione was telling him that Malfoy had changed sides… 

Hermione finally broke the silence. “Enough about Malfoy, Harry, this is about you. Do you honestly think you’d be better off taking shots in the dark on your own? Why not come back to Hogwarts? They’ve decided to re-open, because a lot of parents wrote, saying they feel their children would be safer there. You’d be much better off after learning a bit more magic… then you can go off and do what you have to do. You could even start doing it while you’re still there! Nobody’s stopping you! And it’s not like the Prophesy came with an expiration date—you could wait.”

“I don’t know, Hermione…” Harry responded weakly. His previous anger and frustration towards the young witch had begun to ebb away, and now he was sort of just thankful for some familiar company. “I told you I need to do this. And nothing that I could possibly learn at Hogwarts would help me against Voldemort.”

“You’re probably right about that last part, Harry. But… his Horcruxes are another story entirely. I have a feeling that you’ll find most of the answers you’re looking for within Hogwarts itself. Hogwarts was Voldemort’s home… I’m sure he’s left traces behind.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry said bitterly.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I _do_ know that if you go off searching for Horcruxes all year, with little to no companions, that you will go into a depression. Maybe even worse than a depression.” Hermione stated grimly, shifting nervously in her seat. “I mean, look at you! You look as if you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least three weeks, and you haven’t had a full night’s sleep in even longer. Come back to Hogwarts, Harry, where you have friends, and mentors, and lots of sources of information.”

“It all comes back to the Library with you, doesn’t it?” Harry said tonelessly, once again staring blankly ahead.

“Be serious! At least give yourself time to finish your schooling. Harry, you’re growing up faster than anyone should have to. Allow yourself a little fun now and then. It’ll lift your spirits, and give you confidence. I don’t know how you’re going to defeat Voldemort if you have no confidence, or will to live.”

Harry took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and opened them again. After yet another long period of silence, he finally looked up and met Hermione’s eyes. “Alright, you win. I’ll go back. But you have to swear that you won’t stop me from doing what I have to do while I’m there.”

Hermione gave him a broad grin and threw her arms around his neck. Harry smiled into her hair and caressed the small of her back with one of his own hands. “You have no idea how relieved I am,” she muttered, and he could tell that she was holding back tears, “I was so worried about you—Ron was too. We were afraid that you’d gone off and done something really stupid.”

“Me? Do something stupid?” Harry said sarcastically, feeling relieved already. “Now, where’d you get that idea?”

[//]

**_(Present time)_ **

_{To know you is to hate you,  
So loving you must be like suicide…}_

It had been a week since the fateful party, and it was already all over the school that Harry Potter was dating Draco Malfoy. At first, the two had tried to keep the true nature of their relationship a secret, but because of that damnable Potion coursing through their veins, they always managed to do something incriminating at the exact _wrong_ moment (such as hold hands, or kiss). The reactions of the other students varied—some were charmed, and thought the idea of the two having feelings for each other was adorable. Others weren’t so keen on the idea, but didn’t really make a big deal out of it. Harry was just thankful that there weren’t too many people in the school who had bad cases of homophobia, because had there been, he was certain that he and Draco would be subject to quite a few taunts, if not violent acts. However, Harry considered himself lucky; especially because Ron had taken it far better than he could have ever have hoped for.

Harry’s number one fear had been that Ron would be angry that Harry had dumped his sister for Malfoy, but Ron was actually pleased. “Oh, come on, Harry,” Ron had said good-naturedly when Harry told him what happened with Ginny, and his concerns. “Did you really think I was jumping for joy at the knowledge that you were dating my sister? It’s kind of creepy having your _best friend_ go out with your _sister…_ ”

Harry sighed in relief. “Thanks Ron, I was certain you’d be cross with me for at least a week.” They both chuckled as Ron shook his head. 

“Nah, I think we’ve had enough stupid fights.”

“Right you are. But what about… Draco?” Harry asked nervously, drawing his eyebrows together and taking a defensive stance as he awaited Ron’s answer.

“What about him? I’m not exactly thrilled about the whole thing. I mean, he’s _Malfoy,_ after all, but… you can’t exactly help it, can you? We played that game, and unfortunately, you’re the one having to pay for it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Harry had said, but he couldn’t continue the conversation further, for Draco had just walked over, and was currently tugging on his arm.

Yes, things were going well enough for the two of them. Harry actually didn’t expect to be having this much fun with a relationship that was supposedly not based on any real emotions. In fact, this was the most fun Harry had ever _had,_ when it came to dating someone. There was something about being with somebody of the same gender that made you a lot more relaxed around them. Harry found that when he was around girls, he often did not know what to say to them, in fear of insulting them and invoking their wrath. However, when he would have a conversation with Draco, he knew exactly what his limits were, as they were around the same as his own. This probably also had something to do with the fact that he and Draco had fought so much in the past—Harry never realized it, but he had gotten to know the other boy quite well from their past fights, and was really comfortable in his presence at the time being.

Not to say that they didn’t have their squabbles—they had quite a few of those. Harry guessed that it was just in their nature to clash; they were such polar opposites, yet when in the right mindset, they got on quite well. 

They were getting along so well, that even the teachers were noticing. When it came time to choose partners in Potions, Professor Slughorn looked at Harry suspiciously when he carried his stuff over to Draco’s cauldron. Slughorn soon approached Harry and Draco, his walrus-like mustache quivering in confusion. 

“Harry m’boy,” he said in greeting, “would you mind explaining to me this… unlikely choice in partners? I hope you don’t mind my saying that you and Mr. Malfoy don’t usually get along too agreeably, and I’m not sure if working with him would be such a great idea.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, sir,” Harry said dismissively, “Ron and Hermione are working together, and me and Draco have been getting along better lately.”

“Good to hear,” Slughorn said, an edge of suspicion in his voice. He then waddled away to inspect another pair’s work. Harry turned to Draco and rolled his eyes, but soon realized that Draco was far from amused.

“That old bastard!” Draco proclaimed, “He was just talking about me as if I weren’t there! I’m in his house, he’s supposed to _like_ me! The audacity!” 

Harry rolled his eyes again, this time at Draco’s upset, and continued chopping his beetles with an amused smile on his face. He found Draco’s remarks quite endearing lately, and he couldn’t quite place why.

Anyway, a typical day for Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy started out in the Great Hall, as most typical days do. Draco would be the first to come in, and he would promptly sit down at the Slytherin table, and just as promptly direct his gaze to the Gryffindor one, in search of a certain someone. Upon realizing that said certain someone was not yet present, Draco would then turn his attention to the huge double doors of the Great Hall, awaiting his entrance.

Harry would stumble in late with a look of confusion on his face, and his hair extremely ruffled. Draco would narrow his eyes at the appearance of him, and quickly wonder to himself why he bothered with the sloppy boy. But then, Harry would look at Draco and give him a brief smile, and Draco would return it discreetly, now remembering why it was that he bothered.

Harry would sit down, and begin to eat, and Draco would watch him the whole time, not touching his own food. Harry would occasionally look up from what he was doing in order to cast a compulsive look in Draco’s direction, as if to assure himself that the boy was, indeed, still there. On these occasions, Draco would look back down at his plate just in time, so Harry wouldn’t realize that he had been examining him. This would continue throughout the meal, until the bell rang.

Then, Harry would slowly get up from the Gryffindor table, and equally slowly make his way to the exit of the Great Hall, every once in a while casting a look over his shoulder to see how far Draco had progressed. 

If Harry reached the door before Draco got there, he would wait until the other boy caught up, and they would, without exchanging a word, walk out of the Hall next to one another. Once the crowd thinned and they were alone, or almost alone, Harry would turn to Draco and give him a bright smile, which Draco would try hard to resist returning, at the stake of his reputation. Harry would greet Draco warmly; as if it had been the first time they saw one another all day, even though it wasn’t. Draco would return the greeting, but in a slightly less warm manner (again, the reputation). Draco would continue to call Harry by his last name, and Harry would continuously remind him not to, only to have Draco ignore him. 

If they had different classes, Harry would walk Draco to his class, even if it meant being late for his own. At the door, as they were saying goodbye and just before Harry walked away, Draco would grab a hold of Harry’s hand, and they would exchange a quick kiss, before Harry made his way off to his own class, now trying to hide quite a goofy smile. 

If they had the same class, however, they would walk there together, and try to get seats next to one another. The teacher of whatever class they had would always cast them a bewildered look before starting the lesson of the day, and an even more bewildered look at the end of class when they walked out side by side, making friendly conversation. 

They would continue this for the rest of the day, never once making plans or discussing what they were doing. It was just instinct; Harry would go, and Draco would follow, or vice versa. 

Lunch would be very much like breakfast; with Draco watching Harry, and Harry making sure Draco wasn’t going anywhere without him. However, the difference was that they would always try hard to finish lunch early in order to go somewhere together before the start of their next class where they could talk, or kiss, depending upon what kind of mood they were in. 

At the end of the day, after dinner, they would go to the Library or some other quiet place, and either have a whispered conversation, do their homework in companionable silence, or just sit there and exchange meaningful glances at one another while they _tried_ to do their homework. When it got late, they would rise from where they sat without discussion, and Harry would walk Draco down to the dungeons (and kiss him goodnight, of course) before making his own way up to Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor. 

Harry was quite content with his relationship with Draco so far—he found that it was much easier to get along with him when they were alone; away from people whose opinion Draco cared about. That way, Draco wouldn’t let them sway his behavior. Not only that, but the two of them had managed to get to know each other quite a bit better from all the time they were spending in one another’s company. Harry found himself wondering sadly why he had been so pig-headed; if he hadn’t, he and Draco could have settled their differences, and they might have started this a long time ago!

But then Harry would remember the Love Potion, and the thought would cause a sickening chill to course through his stomach. If he had indeed taken it, this would all be gone in a little under two months, and he’d have absolutely nothing to show for it. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d miss this relationship terribly when it came to its inevitable end.

But then there was another thought that sickened Harry even more; what if he _hadn’t,_ in fact, taken the Potion, and Draco _had?_ After the two months ended, Draco would be left with no feelings for Harry, and Harry would still….

But Harry tried not to think about that. In order to help himself stop thinking about it, he took the calendar next to his bed off the wall, turning two months ahead, to February. On the box marked the third (exactly two months after the game), he used his wand to make a red dot appear that would start to flash a week in advance. This eased Harry’s mind slightly, as now at least he knew that he wouldn’t forget about the day the Potion wore off. Until then, he’d just try to have fun, and not think about the Potion.

But that wasn’t the only problem the Potion was causing him. Harry kept feeling little naggings in the back of his mind every time he came within close proximity of Draco, making him want to go farther than just brief kissing (this is, of course, assuming that Harry had taken the Potion, and it wasn’t just his hormones going crazy). But Harry was certain Draco wasn’t ready for going any farther yet, and he didn’t want to scare the other boy away. He was still getting used to the idea himself, and although his body wanted him to take the next step, he wasn’t sure if he was mentally prepared for it.

However, contrary to Harry’s belief, Draco was just as ready for the next step as he. Draco found himself extremely frustrated every time he left Harry after they kissed, for they hadn’t even gotten very far _kissing_ -wise. The farthest they had gotten, in fact, was at the party, and Draco didn’t even remember that. Now, their kisses would last all of five seconds, and just as Draco got up the nerve to try and sneak some tongue in, Harry would pull away. Draco thought this meant that Harry wasn’t ready for that, but in reality Harry didn’t even notice Draco’s attempts. 

Not only that, but they were hardly spending enough time together for Draco’s liking. It’s not like they had much of a choice—classes kept them busy during the day, and at night they had loads of homework to get through, as the teachers were piling it high in preparation for NEWTs. A few times, Draco was tempted to try and get into the Gryffindor common room, but he wasn’t so sure if he’d be welcomed there, and he felt funny asking Harry if he could come in. They _were_ getting more comfortable with one another, but Draco still wasn’t sure where his boundaries were as far as how close he was allowed to get (both literally and figuratively). 

The truth was, there were a lot of misunderstandings passing between the two. For example, every once and a while, Draco would say something suggestive, and Harry would blush and turn away. Draco perceived this as Harry being embarrassed at the innuendo, and would immediately stop saying whatever it was he had been saying. However, in reality, Harry had blushed because the idea of what Draco was suggesting was quickly turning him on, and he turned away to hide that fact from Draco. 

It was only a matter of time before Draco couldn’t take it anymore, and voiced his frustrations to Harry… well, at least _some_ of his frustrations.

[//]

“Potter… we need to talk.”

Draco’s determined voice broke through the silence of the peaceful Library, making Harry look up from the star chart he had been working on. He started slightly upon seeing the grim look on Draco’s face and immediately set down his quill, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, as he knit his brow and narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. Draco didn’t move, still leaning on the desk with his elbows, a deadly serious look set into his sharp features. 

“About what?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer, but stalling.

“Us.” Draco said shortly, his expression not faltering in the slightest.

Harry heaved a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve only been together a little over a week, and you’ve already got a problem with me? Please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me…” Harry tried to maintain his composure, but he knew (or at least he _thought_ he knew) that the words “we have to talk” could never be followed by good news. Draco was unhappy about something Harry did, obviously.

“No, Potter, I’m not breaking up with you,” Draco said, sounding slightly flattered that Harry had been so upset at the prospect of him doing that. “We’ve just gone so long without actually talking that I thought I should force you.”

“What do you _mean_ ‘we’ve gone so long without talking’? We talk every day! We have great conversations!”

“Why are you stalling?” Draco said impatiently, now crossing his own arms. “You know what I mean. Sure, we have nice conversations, but about meaningless things like Quidditch and our friends. I think we need to talk about what’s going on here,” Draco said, motioning between himself and Harry.

“I didn’t think there was anything to talk about,” Harry said honestly, “Why? Did I do something to upset you?”

“No… it’s more like what you’re _not_ doing,” Draco said quietly, but loud enough for Harry to hear.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Are you…?” but he stopped himself from finishing his sentence, instead asking for Draco to explain himself. 

Now it was Draco’s turn to sigh. “Listen, Potter. This… _thing_ can’t go on forever, as we’ve already determined, and frankly, I’m not looking forward to the time when it ends. I think we should try to make the best of the time we have together, and spending said time in the _fucking Library,_ doing our homework, is hardly a good use of our time, in my opinion.”

“What do _you_ suggest?” Harry said, his voice taking on a defensive tone, “Hiding out in the _boy’s washroom_ instead, and staying up until two o’clock in the morning doing our homework?”

“Actually, that sounds like a really good idea to me right about now,” Draco said, starting to gather his books and getting out of the chair he had been sitting in. 

“ _What?_ ” said Harry incredulously, but gathering his own books nonetheless. 

“Well, we don’t exactly have any better place to meet, do we? This school isn’t very accommodating when it comes to inter-house relationships,” Draco said, now straightening up and brushing his blond hair out of his eyes impatiently. “I feel bad for the heterosexuals, they can’t even meet in the bathrooms!”

“Good point,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Wait a minute… have you used this strategy before?” 

“No, I never had the need to!” Draco said, bristling. 

“Oh, why is that?” Harry said, slightly amused.

“Because I’ve only dated Slytherins until now! We’ve got a perfectly good common room for that sort of thing!” Draco answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry rolled his eyes and followed Draco out of the Library.

Harry was following Draco through the hallways at a leisurely pace—that is, until Draco grabbed a hold of his hand and yanked, causing him to stumble forward slightly. 

“What the bloody blazes was that for?” Harry snapped once he regained his balance.

“You’re walking too slow!” Draco said briskly, now dragging Harry along at a much faster pace.

“Why are you so eager? We’re just going to the bathroom!” Harry said, still annoyed.

“Are you _stupid,_ Potter?” Draco asked, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Er… no, why?” 

“Don’t you have _any idea_ why I’m taking you to the bathroom? If we were going in there to do our homework, we could have just stayed in the Library!” Draco said incredulously.

Harry flushed red as he realized that his wish was most likely going to come true, and very soon, at that. 

Soon, Harry saw that they were nearing the washrooms. Draco quickly walked up to the door that said “boys” on it, and pushed it open hastily, holding the door for Harry as he stepped inside. At first glance, there appeared to be nobody inside it, which was not unusual since it was after dinner, and most people were in their common rooms. Draco then progressed further into the washroom, checking under the stalls to make sure that they were indeed alone. Once that fact was verified, Draco strolled across the room to where the sinks were, and hoisted himself up to sit on a ledge protruding from the wall. Harry just sort of stood across the room from him, watching him awkwardly, his school bag still dangling off his right shoulder. 

“What are you just standing there for?” Draco snarled, “You’re useless over there, get over _here!_ ”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled slowly, and walked uneasily towards where Draco sat. He dropped his schoolbag in the corner under the sink, and stood in front of Draco, looking up at him expectantly.

Draco stared back, seemingly thinking about something. When over a minute passed and neither of them said a word, Harry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and broke the silence, saying, “Now what?”

That seemed to snap Draco out of his thoughts, for he reached down and grabbed Harry’s shoulders, pulling him closer so that his knees were pressing into Harry’s stomach slightly. Harry gasped nervously, wanting to look away from Draco’s intense stare, but not letting himself. 

Without breaking his gaze, Draco reached down and took Harry’s hands, threading his own fingers with Harry’s. Harry didn’t react to this new development, but merely kept staring into Draco’s eyes. When Draco began to slowly lean down to kiss Harry, he almost let him, but at the last minute pulled away slightly, and said, “But what if somebody comes in? They’ll get freaked out, and—”

“Shhh,” Draco said, cutting him off, “Who cares? So what if they do? It’s not like people haven’t seen us kissing before.”

Harry blushed. “Well…” Harry couldn’t think of another reason why he wouldn’t let Draco kiss him, and Draco obviously realized this, because he smiled smugly and leaned down again, this time successfully kissing Harry. 

Draco let his hands untangle themselves from Harry’s, instead cupping Harry’s chin in them. Harry, in turn, rested his own hands on Draco’s thighs, as they were at the right level for him to do so. Draco slowly closed his eyes, savoring this moment that he’d been waiting for all day, and he was just about to go that next step and open his mouth when—

“Harry, are you in here? You said you’d be back by nine, and now it’s—” Ron froze in the doorway when he saw the compromising position he had found his best friend in. 

Harry had hastily broken the kiss he and Draco had been sharing, whipping his head around at the sound of Ron’s voice. However, it was too late, and Ron had seen. Harry flushed in embarrassment, taking his hands off Draco’s thighs.

“EW! Okay, I don’t want to know what you two were doing! I’ll just go now, see you later, mate!” And with that, Ron turned on his heel and all but ran out of the room.

“Ron, wait! I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“Potter, shut up!” Draco snapped, causing Harry to turn his attention back to the blond.

“But I think he’s upset! I’ll just go—”

“No, you won’t. He’s not upset; he just doesn’t like seeing boys kiss. Especially you and I, I’d say. I’m not about to let that prat get in the way of what we were doing.”

Harry frowned. “Fine, but don’t you think the bathroom’s a bit public to be making out in?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Oh please, Potter, you didn’t even let me get that far.”

“WOULD YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT?” Harry bellowed, not able to take Draco’s use of his last name anymore. 

Draco scowled. “We’re not on first name basis until I can get my tongue in your mouth. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

Harry thought for a moment, and then spoke up in a rare moment of confidence. “Seems fair to me.” And with that, Harry grabbed Draco’s arms, hoisting him down from the ledge bodily, only to shove him back up against it the instant his feet hit the floor. Draco’s eyes immediately shot open all the way at the abrupt contact, not expecting Harry to be that aggressive. 

But that was nothing, because a moment later, Harry had tilted his head to the side and was now pressing his lips to Draco’s in a more insistent manner than ever (or at least that Draco could remember). Soon, he had opened his mouth, and his tongue was invading Draco’s mouth with fervor, making Draco shudder with need. Draco’s hands shot up to Harry’s chest, running his fingers up and down his sides as the kiss continued. Harry, meanwhile, let his hands fall down to rest on Draco’s hips lightly, beginning to feel up his backside when he was feeling particularly brave. Draco gasped into Harry’s mouth at the surprising contact, which just made Harry kiss him harder. 

This lasted several minutes, and just when Harry was starting to warm up to the idea of kissing Draco forever, Draco pulled away slowly, and gently pushed Harry back a little so he could see him. They smiled at each other lazily for a moment or two, and then they were kissing again, just as enthusiastically as before. 

“Well, _Harry,_ ” Draco emphasized once the kiss broke, trying to suppress an undignified grin that was trying to surface on his pale face. “It’s getting kind of late. Shall we?” Draco walked to the door, holding it open and ushering Harry through with a great sweeping motion. “After you.”

Harry inclined his head slightly once he walked through. “Why, thank you.” He, too, was trying to hold back a silly smile. 

Before Draco could protest, Harry had grabbed his left hand with his own right one, and laced their fingers together. Once he had done this, he looked up at Draco to see if he was going to object. At first, he looked a little uneasy, but then just smiled feebly and started walking, leading Harry by his hand up to Gryffindor Tower, where they kissed goodnight and parted ways.

[//]

It was a little after ten o’clock, and Harry tentatively walked into the Gryffindor common room after whispering the password to the Fat Lady, who had been nodding off in her portrait. Once he crossed the threshold, Ron and Hermione were alerted, and their heads snapped up.

“Finally, you’re back,” Hermione said sternly, moving over on the sofa to make room for Harry, “We were starting to wonder if you were ever going to return.”

Harry looked at Ron guiltily, who flushed red at the memory of where he found Harry. “I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“No problem, mate,” Ron said, and Harry was surprised at how well he was taking the whole thing. 

“No, I think there is a problem,” said Hermione stoutly. 

Harry swallowed nervously, closing his eyes and steeling himself for the lecture. “And what would that be?” he asked.

Hermione sighed, resting one of her hands on his arm. She seemed to be fighting an internal battle; should she say it, or should she leave him alone? Harry watched the emotions play across her face, and finally settle into place. Harry knew she had decided to say whatever it was she had been planning to say. 

“Harry, are you a virgin?” 

Harry just stared at her as his jaw dropped open in shock, quite unattractively I might add. He didn’t think Hermione was capable of thinking such thoughts, let alone actually _voicing_ them. Harry gaped at her for a few more moments, his mouth now opening and closing as he floundered for words. “Yes! Wait—no! Why’s it matter to _you?_ ” Harry said in a rush, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind about which bit to say first. 

Hermione just continued to look at him calmly, or as calm as she could look when Harry was staring at her as if she had grown two (severely disfigured) extra heads. “Just answer the question, Harry,” she said evenly. “We can go talk about this elsewhere if you don’t want anyone else to hear.” Ron glared at her angrily, as he was clearly included in ‘anyone else.’ 

“Right,” Harry answered after a moment, quickly recovering from the initial shock of realizing what they were going to talk about. “Yes, why don’t we go up to the boys’ dorm?” He immediately got up, and started walking up the stairs, closely followed by Hermione. Ron made an indignant noise from where he sat on the couch, and Harry turned around in surprise. “Oh, I suppose you can come, too, Ron. I just didn’t want the whole common room to listen to this…”

Ron smiled gratefully (although if Harry’s answer to the question really had been “no,” he wasn’t sure he wanted to know) and ran to catch up with Harry and Hermione as they ascended the stairs. 

Once they had gotten into the boys’ dorm, closed the door behind them, and taken seats, Hermione turned to Harry and voiced her question again. When Harry was still reluctant to answer her, she burst out with, “Honestly, Harry! I’m not trying to embarrass you; I just need to talk to you about something! It’s for your own good!”

Harry stared at his feet, and said quietly, “Yes, I am.” Even though his head was cast downwards, Hermione didn’t miss the red tinge to his cheeks. 

“Harry, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Hermione said comfortingly, yet trying not to patronize him. “From your reaction, I thought you were going to say no.”

“ _Anyway,_ ” Harry said pointedly, clearly wanting to get off the subject, “What were you going to talk to me about, and what did… _that_ have to do with it?”

“Right,” Hermione said grimly, getting up from her seat on Ron’s bed and moving to sit next to Harry on his own. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, since you’re clearly having a good time with Malfoy and all, but I’m not sure how wise it would be for you to get too… _intimate_ with him.”

Harry’s blush promptly deepened, and he heard Ron make a distinct grossed-out sound from where he sat across from Harry and Hermione. “Um, why are you bringing this up _now?_ ” Harry asked quietly, still not looking up.

“Because, it’s obvious to anyone who pays enough attention that your relationship with Malfoy is quickly progressing, and you most likely had a breakthrough today,” she said unabashedly. 

Ron snorted knowingly, but remained silent for Harry’s sake. “Well… yes,” Harry started tentatively, “but we’re nowhere near _that_ yet…”

“Harry, you’d be surprised how fast something can develop when teenaged boys are involved,” Hermione said bluntly. “I just wanted to make sure I caught you before it was too late.”

“Why, though?” Harry said, although he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. He had done a lot of thinking on the subject himself, and had come to the conclusion that he really shouldn’t go too far with Draco.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said sadly, biting her lip, “The person you lose your virginity to should be someone who you really care about, and they should care about you. If you were to go that far with Draco, when the Potion wore off, you’d probably be full of regret, or even if you weren’t, you’d wind up being hurt because he wouldn’t care about you in that way anymore. You’re playing with fire, Harry, and someone’s bound to get burned. I’m just trying to make sure that someone isn’t you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Harry said, “but I’d prefer if you’d stay out of my personal choices. You’ve already convinced me to come back to Hogwarts so I could ‘have some fun,’ as I think you put it, and now you’re trying to discourage me from that, too!” Harry said bitterly. He loved Hermione dearly, but sometimes she was such a control freak.

“I understand,” she said, unaffected by his words, almost as if she had anticipated them. “I just wanted to bring this to your attention, because I hate to see you upset. I know I can’t _tell you what to do,_ and I don’t intend to. I’m just advising you not to get too attached to Malfoy, because Merlin knows he won’t be there for you forever.”

Harry smiled, albeit grudgingly. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. I just don’t like you bossing me around.”

“Again, I understand, and I’m glad you at least heard me out. I said that mostly for my own benefit, because I couldn’t have you on my conscious like that.” She then leaned over to kiss Harry goodnight on his cheek, repeated the action for Ron, and left the room. 

The two boys sat there in silence for a moment before Ron spoke up. “She’s got a point, mate. You know how much of a bastard Malfoy can be when he’s not under the influence of that Potion… I think you should watch your back,” he said, in the most concerned voice he could muster. Harry had to give him credit for speaking up, because he had seen how pissed Harry could get when people tried to tell him what to do. But somehow, the fact that Ron wasn’t just telling him not to go far with Draco because the thought grossed him out, but because he actually cared about Harry’s feelings, made it impossible for Harry to be cross wit him.

“I know. Thanks, Ron,” Harry said sincerely. 

“No problem. But seriously… you _didn’t_ shag Malfoy… did you?”

“No! I said I didn’t, and I was telling the truth,” Harry said, smirking despite himself. 

Again, Harry had thought of this before Hermione had even said anything. Although he was disappointed at the time, Harry was now more relieved than he cared to admit that he and Draco hadn’t actually done anything that first night. He knew it would be awfully hard for the two of them to accept what they had done two months after the fact, when the Potion wore off. Or even worse, if it wore off for Draco, but not Harry, because maybe he didn’t _take it_ in the first place…

Harry shuddered at the thought. He quickly pushed it out of his mind, reminding himself that he had promised he wouldn’t think about that until the time came.

Ron was now getting ready for bed, so Harry decided to do the same, figuring it would do him some good to sleep on the whole thing. Soon, he was lying on his back in his bed, with his eyes closed; his body was still, but his mind was whirring.

[//]

The next day was Thursday, and Harry had quite a lot of work to catch up on because of the unfortunate snogging episode the day before. Still feeling awkward about his whole situation, Harry avoided Draco like the plague. During breakfast, Harry refused to look at him. When they had classes together, Harry was conveniently talking to Ron and Hermione whenever Draco tried to catch his attention. During lunch, Harry finished in five minutes, and rushed out of the room before Draco could corner him. Finally, at dinner, Draco managed to get a hold on Harry, so he could interrogate him.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he said bluntly, as soon as he had finished dragging Harry out of the Great Hall. “And don’t say you weren’t, because that’s what everyone says after being asked that question.”

Harry closed his mouth—he had been about to say that. “Fine. I just had some work to catch up on, all right? You tend to distract me from my studies.”

 

“That can’t be the only reason! You could have just _told_ me that, and I would have left you alone.”

Draco was right; it wasn’t the only reason. Harry had been thinking about what Hermione had said, and what he himself had been thinking on the subject of how fast his and Draco’s relationship seemed to be progressing. Harry was very inexperienced, and although to some people it may not look like they had gotten far at all, but to Harry this was moving so fast that he was afraid he’d get caught up in it. He was even starting to have doubts about the whole thing, rushing aside. He really didn’t relish the idea of what would happen in two months, and he felt as if his decision to accept Draco’s offer might have been a bit brash. 

Harry was silent for a long time as he mulled all this over, and tried to decide whether or not to share this all with Draco. Draco’s impatient clearing of his throat, however, rapidly brought Harry back to Earth.

“Hm? Oh,” he said, a bit disoriented. 

“Are you okay?” Draco said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at Harry’s pained expression.

“Yeah, I’m all right. It’s just that you and I have been… progressing quickly, and I needed some time to think about it without you… er… distracting me.” Harry winced; he wasn’t sure of how Draco would take this.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about what happened last night? Do you not want me to kiss you anymore?” Harry quickly noticed that Draco was becoming livid at the thought. “Why did you agree to this if you were going to back out at the first sign of something _exciting?_ I thought you’d be willing to have some _fun,_ Potter.”

“I do want to have _fun,_ ” Harry retorted, “And what happened last night was fine by me. But I think we should… you know… draw the line somewhere before it gets out of hand.” 

When comprehension dawned, Draco smiled in an infuriating manner (in Harry’s opinion). “This is about sex, isn’t it?” he said smugly, keeping his obnoxious smile plastered on his face.

Harry made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, which just made Draco smile wider. “Why are you so amused?” Harry spat, Draco’s look making him uncomfortable. 

“Potter, you’re a _seventeen-year-old boy._ You’re supposed to be _begging_ me to have sex with you, not panicking at the thought that we might get anywhere close to it.”

“Yeah, well, I think these circumstances are unusual, don’t you?” Harry said, trying in vain to suppress a blush. “Besides, I wasn’t the one—” Harry had been about to bring up the fact that Draco had been the one to panic when they had been drunk, but decided to withhold that particular bit of information for later use, as he figured it’d be good blackmail.

“You weren’t the one…?” Draco questioned, frowning at Harry suspiciously.

“Er, nothing.” Harry said quickly. Draco didn’t buy his excuse, but plowed on anyway.

“What makes these circumstances so unusual? We’re in a relationship. That is what people in relationships _do._ ” 

“But we’re not in a _real_ relationship,” Harry countered.

“It seems pretty real to me,” Draco said, prodding Harry as if to make sure he was solid. “See?”

Harry snorted out of amusement. Draco could be pretty funny when he wasn’t insulting anyone. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.” Harry said, serious suddenly as he stopped his rapidly drifting thoughts and recalled what they had been talking about.

Draco sighed impatiently. “Potter…” Draco started, but Harry cut him off before he could continue.

“Back to ‘Potter’ already, is it?” Harry said bitterly, crossing his arms and shooting Draco a glare, intent on reminding him of yesterday’s promise.

“Yes, well, I think I have every right, since you’ve been avoiding me,” Draco said stubbornly. “And you’re going to run away every time I touch you, now.”

“I’m not going to run away _every time you touch me,_ Malfoy,” Harry said, starting to get irritated with Draco’s attitude. 

Draco got a decidedly evil look on his face, and promptly grabbed Harry in a very inappropriate place, making Harry yelp in a very undignified fashion and jump backwards. “See?” Draco said pointedly, gesturing to Harry, who was now several feet away and sporting a deep blush. 

“In all fairness, that was very unexpected,” Harry said angrily, raking a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. Draco rolled his eyes, not accepting Harry’s excuse.

“Anyway, it’s sounding like you’re going to start blathering on about ‘true love’ and how people shouldn’t do anything with one another until they’re sure the person is ‘the one’ and all that goody-goody Gryffindor shit. Just because your _friends_ are about as experienced as twelve-year-olds doesn’t mean you have to be,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s _not_ my point, Malfoy,” Harry said, getting more and more frustrated by the second. “I don’t have to put up with your bullshit, you know,” he continued, his anger now apparent. “I could dump you right now, and not feel the least bit of remorse, because you can be a real _bastard_ sometimes. There are some things I still haven’t gotten over, and you acting like this isn’t doing much to ease the feeling, if you know what I mean.”

Draco sighed; it seemed as if this was becoming a new habit of his. “Circumstances are different now, Potter. I’m not going to screw you over.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to _tell_ you,” Harry said, “Circumstances are different. Things between us can never be normal, whatever that is. I don’t think they ever will be. And how can you confidently say that you won’t screw me over? You could _very well_ screw me over, after this whole thing is over with! That’s why I don’t want to go too far with you!”

“Why do you think I’m going to mess with you? I’m not!” Draco said, a little louder than necessary, throwing his arms up in the air out of exasperation. Gryffindors, honestly…

“Because this whole thing—you and me, it’s _fake!_ ” Harry all but yelled, gesturing between himself and Draco. “I’m having second thoughts about this whole thing. It seems stupid to go about this when we know it’s inevitably going to end!”

“It’s just about having _fun!_ ” Draco said, for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Well, maybe, but I don’t want to have to live with the knowledge that I lost my virginity to someone who only cared about me for two months, and then basically went back to how he was before the whole episode!”

Draco sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, desperately trying to be patient. “Potter, I still don’t see why that matters. All boys are age are desperately trying to get laid, and what does it matter with us if the attraction is purely physical?” 

Harry stared at him in complete disbelief. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he said, too shocked to even sound hurt. “You can’t possibly deny that it’s not purely physical! I know it’s not for me, at least!”

Draco looked uncertain for a moment. “Alright, fine,” he admitted, “I do have some feelings for you, but don’t expect a love confession or anything. I may be under the influence of a potion, but it can’t possibly mimic _love._ They just call it that, you know.”

Harry seemed satisfied, at least for now. “Glad we’re on the same page here. I must admit, I was worried for a moment. And I _know_ you don’t really _love_ me. It’s such an easy thing to say, but meaning it is another thing entirely. Anyway, can’t you see why this would end in disaster?”

Draco nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you _do_ have a point. But let’s just see how things go, all right? I can’t believe it’s been barely over a week, and we’ve already discussed this.”

“At least it’s out of the way,” Harry muttered grudgingly. 

Draco ignored him. “Just for the record, I wasn’t planning on rushing you into anything. I myself am not exactly ready for _that_ quite yet. I was just a bit unnerved that you are going to completely deny me any action.”

“I didn’t say _that,_ ” Harry said, shocked that Draco thought he was going to be a complete prude. “Just… you know…”

“Honestly, you sound like a pathetic fourteen-year-old _girl,_ you can’t even say it!” Draco remarked sharply, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just a bit uncomfortable!” Harry shot back, insulted. 

“Right,” Draco said, dismissing the side tracking they had done, but slightly happier with the knowledge that Harry wasn’t going to run away every time he attempted something. He’d just have to wait awhile, until they got more comfortable with one another. “Anyway, let’s just let things happen, and when we get there, we’ll see what we’re going to do about it. Who knows? By then we might… feel differently.” Draco winced as he realized he was getting sentimental. 

Harry didn’t notice his lapse of bad attitude, but smiled shyly. “Good to hear you understand,” he said quietly, stepping closer to Draco subtly. His movement wasn’t lost to Draco, however, who mimicked his action, bringing them only inches apart. Harry smiled and placed his hands on Draco’s slim waist, pulling him even closer, and beginning to lean down. Draco felt relief flood him as it hit him that he and Harry had just survived their first real fight as a couple. He quickly tilted his head up, and let Harry meet his lips in a gentle kiss. 

When they broke apart, Draco smiled at Harry, his eyes sparkling happily. Harry didn’t quite know why, but the expression on his face sent a sharp stab to somewhere in his stomach region, but it somehow felt really good. Draco stepped away slightly, and allowed his hand to brush against Harry’s. Harry took his prompt, and gently took Draco’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

They had been just about to kiss again, when suddenly dinner was over, and everybody was streaming out of the Great Hall into the corridor Harry and Draco were in. Draco turned to Harry, a small (yet pleased) smile still on his face. “Let’s go to the bathroom,” he said, smirking mischievously. 

“But I don’t need to,” Harry protested. He could be horribly slow sometimes. 

Draco rolled his eyes disbelievingly; endlessly amused that Harry didn’t get his implications. “Oh believe me, you will when we get there…”

[//]

The next couple of weeks passed similarly, the two of them stealing moments together whenever they got the chance to. However, Harry noticed that Draco was beginning to get somewhat distant with him, as he had been right before the whole bathroom episode. Harry was having a lot of trouble reading Draco, and it unnerved him spectacularly. While Harry could most of the time determine what he was feeling for fairly certain, Draco looked conflicted whenever he and Harry would talk to one another. It seemed as if Draco were struggling against his better reasoning, which was telling him that he really shouldn’t be associating with Harry like this. He seemed to be successfully ignoring this instinct, though, and for that Harry was infinitely grateful.

If Harry had thought that he loved Draco when he took the Potion all those weeks ago, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He came to realize that in being Draco’s rival, he had only seen the worst of the other boy, and in turn, Draco had only seen the worst of him. It turned out that Draco could really be a very sweet person if he was in the right mood, and with the right company. Getting to know this side of his rival made Harry wonder how many other people he had perceived wrongly. Because Draco truly wore a mask when in public, and Harry still couldn’t tell if he had completely taken it off, really. To his credit, Draco was quite a good actor, and managed to hide most of his more raw emotions from the people around him, so Harry felt quite flattered when Draco had let Harry see him upset. 

It was after dinner, and they were going about their usual routine of sitting around in the Library before they ran off to the bathroom for an impromptu snogging session, which always occurred at different times, depending on their mood. Draco was doing his homework, and Harry was pretending to do his, but really just watching Draco. He had noticed something funny about the other boy over the past few days, and it was something more than the usual distantness he had been exhibiting for a week. After about ten minutes of watching Draco, and seeing the obvious torment on his features, Harry’s resistance finally broke and he asked Draco what the matter was.

At first, Draco didn’t want to answer him, so he quickly put the “indifferent” mask back on, trying in vain to hide the fact that something was bothering him. Harry had caught on to him by now, so he continued to prod. 

“Fine,” Draco finally said, his resolve weakening. Harry instantly saw the troubled, weary look make its way back onto his face. “I’ve been having nightmares lately. Stuff about… things that have happened over the past year. And it’s scaring me, because they weren’t exactly happy memories. Some of them were downright horrifying.” 

Harry’s heart instantly went out to him, because Harry was no stranger to haunting dreams. “About what?” he asked gently. “What sort of things happened over the past year that upset you so much?”

Draco closed is eyes wearily, and seemed to be thinking for a moment. After a pause, he slowly shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it, especially not now. I’ve got other things to think about, and so do you, so I think I should just try to get over it, and maybe I’ll talk to you about it another time.”

Harry was going to protest that talking about it would probably make Draco feel better, if anything, but upon seeing the look on Draco’s face, he stopped himself and merely nodded. “Thanks for telling me that much, though,” Harry said sincerely, “I’ve been really worried about you.”

“You were?” Harry was shocked to hear the surprise in Draco’s voice.

“Of course,” Harry said earnestly, “Shouldn’t I be? You are my boyfriend after all… aren’t you?”

Draco smiled weakly. “Yeah, I suppose so.” Draco was happier than he had been five minutes ago, despite himself. He knew it shouldn’t matter to him that Harry cared, because really, he wasn’t supposed to feel that way about Harry. Sure, he could accept the lust, and the fascination, and some of the emotional stuff that went along with it, but to this extent? Damn that Love Potion. The fact that Harry was worrying about him made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and that was most definitely a foreign emotion for Draco. 

There was a slightly awkward silence for a few moments, when the two just kind of looked at one another. At the same moment, they both decided to look away, Draco’s eyes snapping back down to the text he was reading, and Harry’s just staring blankly at a piece of parchment covered in his own handwriting. Draco sneaked a look at Harry after a minute or so, and he immediately knew that Harry wasn’t really doing his homework—his eyes weren’t moving, but rather looked kind of glassy, as if he were so deep in thought that he had forgotten to blink. Draco smirked to himself and turned back to his book, waiting for Harry to say something.

Harry was really pondering what to do next. He didn’t know how he got stuck with the role, but suddenly, Draco was relying on him to take things to the next level, if he wanted to. And he definitely wanted to make _some_ sort of change in their routine, because it was starting to get mundane. The snogging was lots of fun, but honestly; they only got to do it for about a half hour each day, and then they’d have to part and go to their own dormitories. And it was a serious downer to have just been making out with your boyfriend, then having to deal with your friends’ questions, then just going to bed. Harry absentmindedly stuck his hand in his pocket, fingering his Invisibility Cloak, which he had taken to carrying around lately, in case he happened to be staying out after curfew. He _could…_ but no, honesty was the best policy. It was an idea for sure, but he didn’t know if Draco would go for it.

Finally, Harry looked up from the parchment he had been staring at and looked at Draco. Draco saw this motion in his peripheral vision and smiled inwardly at Harry’s predictability, and his ability to predict. 

“Draco?” Harry finally called tentatively. Draco immediately looked up, locking his eyes with Harry.

“Yes?” he said expectantly, closing his book, for he was sure he wouldn’t be reading it anymore tonight.

“How would you feel about coming to Gryffindor Tower with me? Maybe stay the night?” Harry tried to sound confident, but his inability to meet Draco’s gaze gave him away.

Draco was slightly taken aback. He knew Harry was going to try something like this, but he hadn’t quite expected an invitation of that nature. Not that he wasn’t pleased, because he most certainly was. “How would your friends feel about that?” he asked, instead of answering Harry’s question right away.

“Yeah, er, about that. I don’t know,” he said sheepishly. “But I think they’ll probably be okay with it. They obviously know about us—I think everyone must by now. Plus, you’d be doing this eventually anyway, so why not find out now?”

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow. “All right, but they’d better be nice to me,” he whined. However, when he got up and started to gather his books with his back to Harry, an uncontained smile spread across his face.

“You’d better be nice to _them,_ ” Harry countered, he himself smiling. 

Draco shrugged one shoulder noncommittally. “We’ll see. Let’s go.” 

Draco had brought most of his books to the Library while Harry only had his schoolbag, so Harry helped him carry his books. Draco tried to suppress a giggle; Harry was being such a stereotypical boyfriend, and it was making him strangely happy. Harry noticed his abrupt change in attitude, and now with much more self-confidence, began to lead Draco to the Gryffindor common room. 

****

**

[End Of Chapter Two]

**

****

[//]

(A/N): I’m sorry for the abrupt ending, but this chapter just kept growing, and it would have been another whole ten pages if I didn’t stop it here. I’m sorry if this is a bit confusing; it’ll all make sense in the end (hopefully). I have a whole master plan that I’m quite proud of, so yep. PLEASE review. Please take the few minutes to tell me what you thought. Until next time,

**[XOXO Princesspepper OXOX]**

\--Song: “Jackass” by Green Day 


	3. Ignite

Title: Russian Roulette

Author: Princesspepper

Pairing: Harry/Draco

WARNINGS: HBP spoilers, slash, language, etc.

(A/N): REVIEWERS! I LOVE YOU! *hugs*

Okay, this chapter contains a similar conversation between Hermione and Harry, just because I felt like it (sorry if it’s repetitive, I just felt the need). One more thing, there’s a passing mention of character death in this chapter. Nobody that we’ve seen in this story yet (don’t worry, not Harry or Draco, ehe), but it still might make some people sad. Right, on with the chapter!

** [Chapter Three: Ignite] **

_{You were my compass,  
Leading me to nowhere fast….}_

Upon reaching Gryffindor Tower while they were standing side by side outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry shot Draco a wary look. “You sure you’ll be okay doing this? I’m going to get mad if you start to taunt my housemates.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I think I can control myself during certain circumstances,” he said, placing a hand on the small of Harry’s back and pushing him forward insistently. 

Harry sighed and reluctantly said the password to the Fat Lady, who eyed Draco suspiciously and swung open after a slight delay. When Harry stepped through the portrait hole, closely followed by Draco, everyone looked up from what they were doing. Draco got several more suspicious looks from the people in the room, but he did his best to ignore them as he followed Harry to a small couch by the fireplace, close to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, apparently doing homework.

As they progressed farther into the common room, Draco got more and more scathing looks, and people started to whisper as they realized that he was a Slytherin, and shouldn’t be here. Harry shot them looks that pretty much said “shut up,” and eventually reached the couch, offering Draco a seat before he himself sat.

Ron and Hermione had noticed Harry’s entrance with Draco, but tried to ignore them until they were actually face-to-face. Hermione looked up from her homework, and looked at Harry strangely as she noticed that Draco was eagerly shifting towards Harry on the couch, so that he was practically on top of him. Harry smiled at him, and wrapped one of his arms around the other boy’s shoulders.

“Harry,” Hermione said carefully, “what’s he doing here?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Draco said, distinctly annoyed.

“Fine, then,” Hermione answered curtly. “Why are you here, Malfoy?”

“Because Harry invited me, of course,” Draco responded promptly, trying to keep resentment out of his voice for Harry’s sake. “It’s awful awkward trying to have a conversation in the Library when you’re supposed to be quiet.”

Hermione looked at the two suspiciously. “Do you remember what I said yesterday, Harry?” she said, her voice taking on a warning tone. “I expect he’ll be leaving before curfew,” she said meaningfully, obviously indicating that she wouldn’t be at all happy if he was going to spend the night.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

Draco looked up at him questioningly, but Harry merely shook his head subtly, indicating he’d tell him later.

The four of them stared at one another awkwardly for a few moments before Ron and Hermione turned back to their homework, leaving Harry to give Draco a pacifying look, as he looked angry and confused. 

After a few moments of sitting in silence, Draco began to get bored, so he quickly came up with an evil idea, which he quickly put into motion. He let his hand rest innocently on Harry’s knee, still staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t realized what he had done. He felt Harry’s leg twitch under his touch, and smiled to himself at the reaction he got. Slowly and casually, he began to move his hand up Harry’s thigh, making him take in breath sharply. 

Harry didn’t come into the common room with the intention of making out with Draco where everyone could see, but Draco clearly thought otherwise, and frankly, Harry wasn’t about to argue. So, he put his hand over Draco’s where it was moving up his own leg, stilling its progress. Draco finally looked at him, smiling in a way that communicated, “haha, my evil plan has worked.” Instead of registering this, however, Harry chose to lean over and kiss him. Hard. 

It seemed as if everyone in the common room had been secretly watching them the whole time, for as soon as they started kissing, everyone snapped their heads up to stare unabashedly. It was just such an odd sight for some of them; although Harry and Draco _did_ kiss a lot in public, it was never quite like _this._ Draco had his eyes closed, but he could still feel everyone’s eyes upon him. He couldn’t tell if he minded or not, and he found himself vaguely wondering if he was turning into an exhibitionist.

Harry, however, was oblivious to the people watching. It could have been just because he was generally less perceptive than Draco, or something else completely unrelated. So, when he broke the kiss with Draco, he was very surprised to find everyone staring at them. When the people watching saw the annoyed look on Harry’s face, however, they quickly looked away, innocently continuing what they had been doing before the two had started to kiss. Hermione, however, was still looking at the two; her face was slightly flushed, but she had a disapproving look on it nonetheless. Harry smiled at her sheepishly, trying to avoid her gaze in order to get her to look away, but she was persistent; she didn’t even shift the expression on her face until Harry met her eyes again. 

“Harry, I thought you said you came here to talk, not snog,” she said, her tone indistinguishable. 

“Well, you know…” Harry said indistinctly, not knowing what to say. Hermione sighed and shook her head out of frustration. Harry then turned to Draco, who was now looking even more confused. “Hey, why don’t we get some more homework done?” Harry said to him softly, picking Draco’s books up from the floor and laying them on the table in front of him. 

Draco shrugged noncommittally and started to unpack his bag, taking out the book he had been reading in the Library earlier. Harry sighed in relief and picked up his own books, burying his nose in the one labeled “Charms.”

Normally Draco wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, but he had a feeling things would change once Hermione went to bed. He now hated her more than he could ever remember hating her before, he realized grudgingly. 

The girl was watching them owlishly, obviously trying to be subtle about it, but Draco noticed nonetheless. What was she, the Public Display Of Affection Patrol? It wasn’t like she and Weasley _never_ snogged in public (and that was something _nobody_ wanted to see). Draco quickly realized that he was getting himself worked up, and tried hard to concentrate on the text he was reading. 

_“And in 1875, the law that restricted the breeding of certain magical creatures (full list on page 756) was enforced, causing…”_

Draco found his attention wavering after less than a sentence; his eyes kept moving across the page, but he wasn’t really absorbing the information. His attention was focused almost entirely on Hermione, and he was silently and subconsciously willing her to leave so he could talk to Harry freely. Normally, he really wouldn’t care what she thought, but not only was she Harry’s friend, but she was also the Head Girl, and if something really displeased her, she could easily take points away from Slytherin. Draco rolled his eyes at his own logic, once again trying to concentrate on his homework.

He soon realized that this was indeed impossible, so he looked at Harry imploringly, communicating his discomfort and impatience. Harry easily got the message, and quickly stood up from the couch, obviously feeling the awkwardness himself. Draco stood up with him, and looked at him expectantly. 

“Uh, why don’t I walk you back to Slytherin, Draco?” Harry said a little louder than necessary, so that Hermione would hear him.

Draco looked at him angrily and started to say something, but quickly stopped at the look on Harry’s face, which communicated that he had ulterior motives. “Sure, why not? I’ve got loads of homework to do, and it’s hard to concentrate with—” he had been about to say “with that bitch breathing down my neck,” but quickly stopped himself, instead saying, “with… you so close.” 

Harry rolled his eyes; picking up on the fact that Draco had been about to say something rude. Hermione had been watching the exchange and took the moment of silence as an opportunity to interject. “Good to hear you care so much about your studies, Malfoy,” she said suspiciously. “Goodnight, then.”

Draco nodded politely before following Harry out of the portrait hole. Once outside, Draco turned on Harry and put a sneer on his face. “What was that? Kicking me out after only five minutes? I thought I was going to _stay_ with you!” he whined, pushing Harry playfully. 

“What makes you think you won’t be?” Harry said with a decidedly evil smile on his face. 

“Alright, what have you got planned?” Draco said, cutting right to the chase. 

Instead of answering him, Harry reached into the depths of his pocket, and withdrew a silvery piece of material that was folded neatly so it would easily fit in the confined space he had pulled it from. Draco’s eyes widened as he watched Harry shake it out so it fell to the ground, completely unfolded. 

“Is that what I _think_ it is?” Draco said, amazement lacing his tone. 

“It’s an Invisibility Cloak, yeah,” Harry said casually, shaking it out gently to get out the last creases. 

“So _that’s_ how you’ve been sneaking around all this time and not getting caught!” Draco said in wonder, still watching Harry.

“Well, I got in trouble a fair few times as it is,” Harry said reasonably, gathering the cloak in his arms gingerly so it was no longer dragging on the floor. 

“You know what I meant,” Draco muttered, reaching forward to touch the material experimentally. After finishing his inspection, Draco let his hand drop to his side and his eyes met Harry’s. “What was Granger talking about, anyway?” he asked curiously, frowning slightly.

“Uh, what?” Harry said, feigning confusion. 

“You know, she said something cryptic like _‘remember what I told you yesterday…’_ ” he said, doing quite a good imitation of Hermione’s shrill voice. 

“Oh. That,” Harry said halfheartedly. “Er, well, she’d just been telling me that she didn’t think it was such a good idea for us to get too intimate. But I already told you that.”

“It was _her?_ ” Draco all but yelled, his cheeks flushing from anger. “ _She’s_ the reason you won’t have sex with me?”

“No!” Harry said quickly, his cheeks reddening for an entirely different reason. “I agreed with her! She thinks that I’m going to ignore her warning, probably, and that’s why she didn’t want you in Gryffindor Tower.”

“What is she, your MOTHER?” Draco snapped. “Don’t let her tell you what to do! You _can_ think for yourself, can’t you? Or does she have to tell you how to do _that_ too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Harry retorted. “Sure, she is a bit controlling, but I don’t let her push me around. If I disagreed with her, I just wouldn’t have listened!”

“I don’t know,” Draco said thoughtfully, “it does seem like she dominates conversation, and she is sort of a control freak…”

“Draco! She’s been my best friend since I was eleven years old! Don’t say mean things about her! She’s just worried about me is all,” Harry said.

“Alright, whatever. Just tell her that I’m not going to rape you, okay?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she knows _that._ She’s probably more afraid of what _I’ll_ do.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m sick of talking about this. Can we _go_ now?”

Harry smiled at Draco’s impatience. “Okay. Just put on the Cloak, and keep a grip on my arm so I don’t accidentally shut you outside the portrait hole.”

Draco complied, throwing the Cloak over his body and making sure it covered all of him before latching on to Harry’s shoulder, following him back up to the portrait. The Fat Lady was looking at Harry suspiciously again, as she had just seen someone disappear into thin air, but just as she was opening her mouth, Harry cut her off. “Quiet, you. It’s not your job to question my intentions. Pixie dust.” At the sound of the password, the Fat Lady made an indignant noise and swung open haughtily. 

Again, everyone in the common room looked up, but this time they looked down again quickly, because Harry walking into the common room by himself (how they saw it, at least) wasn’t out of the ordinary no matter how you look at it. Hermione, however, noticed the guilty look on Harry’s face, but before she could question him about the surprisingly short time it took to walk Draco to Slytherin and come back, Harry was already walking up the stairs as fast as he could with Draco hanging onto him. 

Once they got into the seventh year boys’ dorm, Draco quickly threw off the cloak after making sure they were alone. He handed it to Harry, and began walking around the room, observing everything from the trunks at the bottom of the five beds to the various posters and clippings adorning the walls. 

Harry watched him nervously, wishing for his approval. Draco’s nose was wrinkled in distaste, but he looked pleased to be where he was nonetheless. After a few minutes of quiet observation, Harry broke the silence. “Well?” he said expectantly.

“Too much red,” Draco said simply. A moment passed, and then Draco turned to Harry, smiling slightly. “But I like it,” he said. And although it wasn’t exactly the sweetest thing Harry had ever heard, it really made him feel good.

Draco continued to pace the room, carefully examining each bed. “Oh,” Harry started, “my bed’s the one—”

“Shush,” Draco said, cutting him off with a shake of his head and the raising of one of his hands. “I want to figure it out myself.”

Harry shook his head behind Draco’s back at this odd challenge, but humored him nonetheless. After another minute of pacing the room, Draco stopped and turned around to face Harry. “That one over there’s yours,” he said triumphantly, pointing over to a bed that had Quidditch posters, old photographs, and various Gryffindor-themed items plastered all over adjoining wall. 

“Right you are,” Harry said, slightly surprised. “How did you know?” 

Draco shrugged one shoulder. “I could just tell,” he said, going over to Harry’s bed, pulling open the hangings, and sitting on it. 

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Harry said, indicating Draco’s position. “We should get ready for bed and get behind the hangings. I’d rather if my roommates didn’t know you were here, as they might be upset.”

“Alright, where’s the bathroom?” Draco said, getting back up.

Harry pointed him in the right direction and sat down on his bed to wait. He was kind of excited about this whole thing; they were reaching a new level of their relationship by spending the night together. In some ways, Harry felt like sleeping in the same bed was more intimate than anything they could do sexually. His cheeks tinged pink at the thought of that, and he quickly tried to put it out of his mind, reminding himself that he wouldn’t even go there until the two months were up. 

By the time Harry was done pondering all this, Draco was back from the bathroom, having finished washing up. Harry got up wordlessly and went into the bathroom to do the same. However, by the time he walked back into the main room, he found Draco pulling off layers of his clothing, until he was left standing in nothing but his boxers. Harry stared at him unabashedly as he undressed, but once he was finished, he looked away and tried not to gape. 

“Um, would you like to borrow a shirt or something?” Harry said, blushing despite himself.

“No, I’m quite alright like this, thanks. It’s how I usually sleep,” Draco said casually, sitting back down on Harry’s bed and laying against the pillows at the head. Harry couldn’t help it; he let himself look back at Draco. His hair was slightly tousled from when he had pulled his shirt up over his head, and it had to be one of the cutest things Harry had ever seen. Draco Malfoy, whose hair was always meticulously combed, was reclining on his bed shirtless with messed up hair. Harry repressed a smile as he completed this thought, trying harder not to stare at Draco’s bare chest.

After a few moments of struggling with himself, Harry looked at Draco’s smooth torso. It was almost impossibly pale—so different from his own skin—yet not in a bad way. It reminded him of breakable porcelain; just as fragile and just as beautiful. He found that his hands were twitching, wanting so badly to touch the exposed skin. Just touch it—nothing more; it looked so soft, and he was sure he’d really enjoy feeling it beneath his fingers. Draco cleared his throat after a few moments, and Harry was sure he was going to make a sarcastic comment, but when Harry looked up and met his eyes, he just saw silent amusement on Draco’s face. 

“Aren’t you going to undress?” Draco said, no trace of discomfort in his voice. 

“Sure,” Harry said, snapping out of his daze quickly, and pulling off his own clothes. Once he too was left only in his boxers, he climbed onto the bed next to Draco and reached forward to close the hangings. They were now enclosed in near darkness; the heavy curtains around the bed cut off all the light abruptly, except for a small sliver where the two sides met one another. Harry fumbled for his wand, which he had resting on a small table by the side of the bed and cast _‘lumos’_ in order to light the enclosure. “Now what?” Harry said once he could see Draco, again attempting to suppress his desire to touch the other boy. 

“Shouldn’t you cast a silencing charm? Your roommates will wonder whom you’re talking to,” Draco said. 

“Right, good idea.” Harry complied, placing his wand back on the night table once he was done. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, both trying to think of what to say. Eventually, a relaxed smile spread across Draco’s face as he rested one of his hands on Harry’s bare shoulder, tucking a stray strand of blond hair behind his own ear. 

Harry smiled back easily, putting his own hand over Draco’s. Draco began to stare longingly at Harry’s chest, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Harry found himself holding back a blush, wondering why they were both suddenly so awkward with one another. Harry took Draco’s free hand and threaded their fingers together, looking at the way their skin contrasted so nicely. He then looked back up at Draco’s face, seeing that Draco had been watching him. 

Harry smiled again, leaning forward slowly until his lips met Draco’s in somewhat of an awkward fashion. Draco sighed in relief, leaning forward into Harry out of habit. Harry received him readily, carefully unthreading their fingers, instead wrapping his arms around Draco’s middle. He slowly eased them down so they were no longer sitting, but now laying down on the bed on their sides. As soon as their full weight rested upon the mattress, Draco pulled himself closer to Harry, allowing their bare chests to make contact. 

The heat was maddening. Harry felt his own burning skin make contact with Draco’s, who was equally hot. It wasn’t a bad kind of heat though—it was that comfortable, sleepy heat that wasn’t sweaty, or sticky. Draco gasped at the contact, opening his mouth wider and therefore allowing Harry’s tongue to invade. Draco hooked his arms under Harry’s, grasping his shoulders from behind and running his hands across them leisurely, enjoying the feel of the lean muscle underneath the soft skin. 

Harry let his hands explore Draco’s back. His skin was every bit as soft as it looked, and Harry could vaguely feel the ridges of Draco’s spine, which curved and straightened as Draco moved against him. Harry’s hands went around to Draco’s sides, and he wanted to touch the front of his torso, but it was quite impossible, as they were pressed so closely together. Harry then gently pushed Draco over, so that he was on his back and Harry was completely on top of him. Draco didn’t complain, but rather melted into the mattress, hooking his ankle behind Harry’s. 

The two of them stayed like that for a while, not bothering to keep track of the time. Draco found his consciousness drifting, bringing him to a place other than where he was physically. It wasn’t a bad thing though, like he wasn’t living in the moment—it was just that being with Harry like this relaxed him beyond even his own comprehension. 

Their companionable silence was broken at the sound of the dormitory door opening. The newcomers announced themselves with heavy footfalls, almost stomping into the room. “Oi, you reckon Harry’s asleep already?” Ron’s voice sounded, permeating the hangings and causing Harry to freeze. 

“I dunno, Ron, it’s kind of early. But why else would his hangings be drawn?” Dean responded, taking a few steps closer to the bed. 

“Whatever, he must be tired. Best keep our voices down, no?” Seamus interjected, walking towards his own bed.

Draco snickered at Harry’s discomfort, shifting slightly so Harry would stop cutting of the circulation in his arm. “What’re you worried about? Do your friends usually open up your bed curtains when you’re supposedly asleep?”

“No, I guess not,” Harry said, relaxing slightly. They then continued kissing, more slowly and lazily this time, as they were getting tired. Soon, Harry rolled off Draco, now resting on his back with his arm around Draco’s shoulders. Draco turned on his side and moved closer, so that his face was resting on Harry, where his shoulder and neck met. Draco breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in Harry’s distinct scent. Harry turned his head so he could see Draco and smiled softly, running his fingers through Draco’s hair. Normally, Draco would protest, but it felt too nice, and he was too tired to care. He wrapped his left arm around Harry’s torso and closed his eyes, letting his breathing regulate as he started to doze off. 

Harry let himself relax completely against the other boy. There was something about having your boyfriend sleeping in your arms that made it impossible to stay awake, so with a last glance at Draco, Harry put out the light and fell into a restful slumber.

[//]

**  
__  
**

(Five months earlier…)

(July 15th, 1997)

It was very, very dark. The only lights that could be seen were the stars in the sky, shining dimly through the foggy night. The light was almost completely absorbed by the water vapor in the air, leaving the Hogwarts grounds almost completely enveloped in darkness.

And Draco Malfoy was running very, very fast. The still summer air was whipping almost painfully against his face, his feet carrying him closer and closer to a destination he could hardly see. His lungs were straining every time he drew breath, beckoning him to stop his running and collapse onto the inviting soft ground, and catch his breath. But Draco could do no such thing—he knew if he stopped he would never start again. 

The fact that he couldn’t see where he was running was overwhelming him in an almost unbearable way—he had no idea if he was even getting any closer. For all he knew, he was running in circles. But no, that would be too cruel, he told himself. He was running straight, towards his destination, and he’d see it very soon. Sure enough, after what seemed like hours, a few pinpricks of light became visible in the distance—the lit windows of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. Draco would have breathed a sigh of relief, but his lungs were already threatening to cave in on themselves.

Draco didn’t _really_ know why he was running. He had done very little thinking before deciding to go to Hogwarts. Now, he figured it had been blind panic—he was getting in way too deep, and he had to find a way to save himself before he ended up like… Well, before someone did him in. That is why he had Apparated to Hogsmeade (the closest area to Hogwarts one could Apparate to), and begun to run the rest of the way to Hogwarts. 

Draco realized numbly that tears were steadily streaming down his face, and this shocked him into running faster, as if he could run away from the tears and leave them behind. Draco knew that he shouldn’t be crying—crying showed weakness, and weakness is what got people killed. Draco didn’t need any more death and hurt, especially not now.

Abruptly, Draco was standing at the front steps of Hogwarts. It seemed as if one moment it had been ten miles away (as it had been for a long time), and the next he was almost tripping over the stairs. 

Draco took a moment to regain his breath just enough so he could bolt up the stairs, and then did just that. Once he reached the top, he began knocking furiously on the enormous double doors. He was knocking so hard that he was sure his knuckles were beginning to split and bleed, and he had been just about to stop and start using his other hand when the doors opened, revealing a very startled (yet annoyed) looking Filch. Although usually the old caretaker instilled fear and dread in the pit of Draco’s stomach (as he was associated with detention), Draco was now overjoyed at the sight of this familiar face. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” he all but snarled at Draco, brandishing a lantern and letting the light flood across Draco’s flushed features.

Draco blinked and cowered away from the sudden light, throwing his hands up in front of him in a sort of automatic defense. Once he realized Filch was waiting for an answer, Draco tentatively let his hands fall to his sides and straightened as best he could. “I’d like to see Professor McGonagall,” he said politely, in as calm of a voice he could muster, considering the circumstances. 

“Malfoy, is it? Do you have any idea what time it is?” Filch growled, Mrs. Norris hissing and spitting by his feet, apparently backing him up. 

“Yes, I know,” Draco said, trying not to plead, “but if you would just let me in… it’s sort of urgent.”

“How do I know you’re not going to try and hurt anyone?” Filch said suspiciously.

Draco sighed; he knew this would happen. “Here… take my wand,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to Filch.

Filch took the wand from Draco roughly and inspected it, as if to make sure it really was a wand. He then pocketed it, looking back at Draco. “Well, all right then,” Filch said in a resigned voice, turning on his heel, and gesturing for Draco to follow him, his lantern casting the dim hallways of Hogwarts into an eerie glow.

Draco had never been in Hogwarts when it was empty, and it was quite unnerving. Usually, when he went out at night during the year, he was on Prefect duty, and would always run into a fellow Prefect. Tonight, however, the halls were barren and dark, as if nobody had been in them for hundreds of years. Or maybe it was just because of the way Draco was feeling that they looked like that.

Soon enough, they were mounting a staircase, and eventually wound up in front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress’s office. 

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans,” Flich muttered, obviously bitter at having to say something so silly. Draco smiled to himself sadly; apparently McGonagall had upheld the tradition of making the password some kind of sweet, even though Dumbledore was gone.

The gargoyle jumped aside, and the giant staircase was revealed. As soon as Draco stepped onto it, it began to move, startling him. He had to stop himself from grabbing Filch, who was still looking bitter and angry, holding his lantern like a lethal weapon. 

Once the staircase reached their destination, Filch stepped off first and knocked on the door. A moment later, Minerva McGonagall was revealed, wearing a dressing gown and a scowl. “What is it, Argus?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes behind her small spectacles. 

“A Mr. Malfoy is here to see you, Headmistress. Says it’s urgent, he does,” Filch said in an oily voice. 

McGonagall was suddenly wide awake, peering around Filch’s stumpy figure. “Mr. Malfoy?” she inquired suspiciously. At the sound of his name, Draco stepped out from behind Filch looking up at her, something akin to fright on his face. “My God, what has happened to you?” she gasped, seeming to notice his distress. 

Draco took a tentative step forward. “May I come in?” he said tiredly, glancing warily at Filch. 

“Yes, of course, how rude of me. Argus, you may go.” Filch bowed and turned, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Once he was gone, Professor McGonagall turned to him sharply, her beady eyes set on him suspiciously. “Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy,” she said politely, yet sternly.

Draco gladly accepted, collapsing into the chair in front of her desk. He vaguely registered that the nameplate on the desk still read “Albus Dumbledore” and figured she didn’t have the heart to remove it yet. 

“What brings you here, Mr. Malfoy? What has happened?” McGonagall questioned finally, after a moment of silence during which Draco stared at the old nameplate. 

A pause. “I’ve come to offer my assistance to the light side of the war,” Draco said after a tense minute, meeting her eyes. 

Professor McGonagall looked startled; she obviously hadn’t expected this strange turn in events. “W – well,” she stammered uncharacteristically, “you’ll have to be seventeen years of age in order to help out,” she finished weakly, not knowing what else to say.

“But I’ve been seventeen since June fifth,” Draco answered, silently amused at her dumbstruck state despite himself. 

“But… what brought on this… change of heart?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Draco’s eyes darkened and he looked down. “Something terrible has happened,” he answered slowly, not looking at her.

“What?” she said, alarmed. “We should act immediately! What’s happened?” 

“Oh, nothing really that concerns you. It’s not _that_ important. It was just sort of a… wakeup call for me,” Draco answered, still looking down. When McGonagall didn’t say anything, Draco continued. “Look, I really feel terrible about what happened last month. I never really wanted a part of it… it was just what was expected of me, and I had to go through with it. I mean, I didn’t really think about what I was getting into…” Draco’s voice trailed off.

“Mr. Malfoy, what are you trying to tell me?” 

“I don’t want to be on His side,” Draco said softly. “He’s killed so many people, and… well, last month, Professor D – Dumbledore told me I could switch sides and you’d keep me safe from Him.”

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared, and she became very tight-lipped. “Professor Dumbledore is no longer around to make you that offer again,” she said in a dangerously calm voice, “and I think I should remind you that it is largely your fault that he isn’t.”

“That might be true,” he said softly and sadly, “but to me, that’s all the more reason to join your side. I want to make up for the damage I’ve done. But still, it’s not like I killed him… I couldn’t…”

“I’ll ask you again, Mr. Malfoy,” she said abruptly. “ _Why the sudden change of heart?_ ”

Draco gulped audibly, having been dreading the moment where he’d have to discuss this. “Severus Snape,” he said simply.

“Severus Snape?” McGonagall repeated sharply. “What about him?”

“He’s d – dead.” 

This seemed to strike a chord within Professor McGonagall, for she faintly looked upset. “What happened?” she asked, almost gently, clearly detecting Draco’s sadness. 

“He killed him,” Draco said, “he found out about Severus’s alliance with the light.”

“W – what?” McGonagall stuttered. “But… he killed Dumbledore! He couldn’t have been allied with us! Dumbledore would never tell anyone why he trusted him!” At this point, she seemed to be arguing with herself more than she was arguing with Draco.

“No, no, that’s not it,” Draco said, “he was always on your side, and I guess I always sort of knew that. I think he… you know… did _it,_ because it was part of a plan, or something. He never spoke to me about it, so I don’t really know. I could just tell by the way he acted after it happened that he really, really didn’t want to.”

“Why does his death distress you so? I’m sure you’re used to seeing You-Know-Who’s followers being slaughtered,” McGonagall said bitterly.

“Yes, I am, but Severus had been taking care of me since the end of June. I’ve known him for a long time, and he’s always been so good to me… almost like an uncle, or something. See, that’s the reason I can’t support You-Know-Who anymore. I can’t see any more people die like that. And _I_ don’t want to die like that.” Draco’s voice trembled, and finally broke at the last sentence. 

“I can see you’re upset, Mr. Malfoy, and you probably mean all that you’re saying. But I’m not sure if you realize what all this entails. It’s hard work, being on our side. You’re going to have to be willing to put your life on the line for the cause. If you’re switching sides to avoid death, I’m not sure you’re making the right choice.”

Draco closed his eyes tightly. “I think I have a better chance of surviving on this side,” he said.

“That’s another thing—if you’re doing this merely for reasons of self-preservation, it’s not going to work. You have to have your heart behind your decision. Plus, you’ll be working alongside the likes of Harry Potter, and I know things between the two of you aren’t exactly smooth.” 

“I don’t care,” Draco said decisively, as if promising this to himself as well as her. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I have to fight against Him, because just look what He’s done to me…” Draco paused as he thought of his father, who had been tortured all those times by The Dark Lord, and then thrown into prison for supporting him. He thought of Severus, who had put so much on the line only to be tortured and murdered…

“You really mean it?” McGonagall said, quirking an eyebrow. “You’ll _die_ for the cause?” 

“I mean it,” Draco said, nodding once firmly.

“Well, if you’re sure…” said McGonagall, extending a long, thin hand for Draco to shake. “Welcome to The Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Malfoy.”

[//]

**  
__  
**

(Present time)

Ron Weasley was getting very impatient, indeed. It must have been somewhere around noon on Saturday, and he was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, trying to do painstakingly boring homework. Hermione had told him that when Harry woke up, he could stop and have a break to go play Quidditch with him or something, but Harry still wasn’t showing any signs of life. In fact, Harry hadn’t even made a peep all last night. Ron just supposed he was really tired and had to go to bed early, then sleep late, but he quickly became agitated.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked him as he got up, not taking her eyes off the book she was reading. 

“To go wake up Harry,” Ron moaned impatiently, running up the staircase to the boys’ dorms. Upon opening the door, Ron soon saw that there still wasn’t any change in Harry’s state—his bed curtains were drawn, and everything was just how Ron had left it nearly four hours ago. Ron groaned in frustration, stomping up to Harry’s bed.

“Harry! Honestly, you’ve been asleep for twelve hours at least, wake up already!” he shouted through the hangings. No movement. “Alright, looks like I have no choice! Don’t say I didn’t warn you, mate!” 

With that, Ron ripped open the bed hangings and promptly jumped backwards out of surprise. “WHAT?” he gasped, having to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly.

Harry finally stirred, opening his eyes slightly against the sudden bright light and blinking. “What’s going on?” he said sleepily, yawning. Ron just gaped at him. “Oh, it’s just you,” Harry said, sounding relieved. Draco, who was still wrapped in his arms, pulled the covers over his head and made several vague (yet loud) sounds of protest. 

“Argh!” Ron said, sounding like he was being strangled. “Did you two…?”

“What?” Harry said vaguely, rubbing his eyes and trying to sit up in bed, but being held down by Draco, who tightened his grip around Harry’s middle when he felt him start to move. “Don’t make me have to think about what you mean, I’ve just woken up.” 

“I shouldn’t even be asking!” Ron said, sounding somewhat horrified. “It’s _so_ obvious what you were up to! Just look at you!”

“What are you on about?” Harry snapped, opting to prop himself on one elbow since Draco wouldn’t let him sit up fully. Eventually, the meaning of Ron’s words caught up with his sleep-hazed mind, and his eyes widened. “Oh… no, we didn’t do anything!” Harry insisted, patting Draco’s arm soothingly as he made a more insistent attempt to bury his face in Harry’s side. 

“Oh, come on Harry!” Ron protested, “Just give up, and don’t insult my intelligence by lying like that! If you tell me the truth, I swear I won’t tell Hermione!” 

“No!” Harry said, his eyes widening. “Honestly, we just went to sleep!”

Ron had opened his mouth to argue, but Draco interrupted him, making both of them jump. “And I would _still_ be sleeping if _you_ didn’t come in here and wake me up, Weasley!” he shouted grumpily, tugging the covers off his head and sitting up, glaring at Ron angrily. 

“Um…” Ron didn’t quite know how to answer that, so he turned back to Harry. “Why are you bothering to deny it?” 

Again, Draco answered for him. “Because it’s _not true!_ Would I be in such a bad mood if I got some last night?” he seethed, looking angry with Harry now. 

“Uh, I don’t know?” Ron said uncertainly. 

“Bollocks,” Draco growled, shaking a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “Now get the fuck out of here! I’m not exactly wearing all that much, and you don’t deserve to see!”

For once, Ron didn’t argue and turned tail, closing the door behind him. “Finally,” Draco murmured, slumping against the pillows, “I thought he’d never leave.” Harry just stared at Draco bemusedly. “What?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Are you always this evil in the morning?” Harry asked, looking somewhat frightened, but equally impressed. 

“I don’t know; I just don’t like people waking me up. I was quite comfortable where I was,” he said, wrapping an arm around Harry to reinforce his point. “Now, why is it that your friends always have something to say whenever we’re having fun?”

“I don’t know,” Harry grumbled, burying his face in his hands. “They’re a bit overly protective, aren’t they?”

Draco snorted. “That was a huge understatement,” he said bitterly. 

“I just hope he doesn’t tell Hermione,” Harry said worriedly. “I have the distinct feeling I’ll be in for a lecture if he does.”

“Forget about her!” Draco said stubbornly. “She shouldn’t stick her nose in other peoples’ business.”

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t help feeling happy that she cares about me so much,” Harry said. 

“Forget about her, you have _me_ for that now,” Draco said, smiling at Harry smugly. Harry smiled back and leaned down to kiss him. 

“You are a complete attention hog, you know?” Harry said once they broke apart. 

“Whatever,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Harry, can I borrow some of your clothes?” he asked sweetly. 

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said, slightly amused at the idea of Draco wearing his robes. He rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a white school shirt and black slacks that were a little too small for him, as well as a set of Gryffindor robes. 

Harry handed them to Draco, waiting for his reaction. Draco eyed them distastefully for a moment, turning to Harry. “On second thought, maybe I can wear my robes again…”

“Draco, you’re actually considering wearing dirty robes?” Harry said incredulously.

“I can’t wear your Gryffindor ones!” Draco exclaimed, holding them by the shoulders and letting them unfold, the bottom falling to the floor. 

“Yes you can,” Harry said simply, pushing him towards the bathroom.

“Alright, fine, but I will find a way to get back at you for this,” Draco promised, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Ten minutes later, he emerged, wearing Harry’s Gryffindor robes (Harry snorted in amusement at the sight—it was too surreal to fully register) and a smug grin. “I’ve made my decision,” he announced imperiously, walking over to Harry’s bed and gathering up his clothes from the day before. “I’m refusing to wear the Invisibility Cloak when we go downstairs, and Granger will find out I stayed the night!”

“ _What?_ ” Harry asked, appalled. “You can’t do that!” 

“Watch me,” Draco said obnoxiously. 

“But then everyone will see you in Gryffindor robes!” Harry pointed out.

Draco hesitated for a moment, seeming like he was going to reconsider. After a moment, he shook his head decisively. “I don’t care. It’ll be even funnier that way.”

“You really are a sadist!” Harry groaned, walking into the bathroom so he could shower.

When he emerged, he quickly noticed that Draco had been waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as he had both feet out the door, Draco grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the dorm, down to the common room. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled as he dragged Harry.

Once they reached the common room, everybody looked up and stared at Draco’s unlikely appearance, both because he was there, and because he was wearing Gryffindor robes. It quickly became apparent that Ron had not, in fact, told Hermione about how he found Harry, for she was staring at the two of them, looking shocked and vaguely worried. 

Harry was blushing at the feeling of everyone staring at him, and trying not to meet anybody’s eyes. 

“Harry,” Hermione said once she had recovered from the shock, her teeth clenched, “What were you _thinking?_ ”

“Er…” Harry started.

“Don’t pick on him, Granger!” Draco cut in, surprising Harry into silence. “I’d hate to remind you that you really have _nothing to do_ with what me and Harry do, especially when you’re not around!”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, floundering for something to say. “You better not have pressured him into doing anything he wasn’t ready for, Malfoy!” she hissed, only loud enough so that he and Harry could hear her. 

“You’re not his mother, Granger! He’s seventeen years old! Even if you were, there still would be very little you could do about this!” Draco retorted, not answering her question.

Hermione looked like she was about to explode, but restrained herself for Harry’s sake. “Harry,” she said quietly, fighting for her control, “can I speak to you?”

Harry shot Draco a wary look, then turned to Hermione. “I suppose…” he said slowly. She promptly grabbed his arm and dragged him up to the boys’ dorm. Harry allowed himself to be dragged, hanging his head in embarrassment, for Hermione was making quite a spectacle. He faintly heard Draco growling in protest to Hermione’s manhandling of Harry, but ignored him, figuring that responding would only make things worth for all three of them.

Hermione sat Harry down on his bed, and positioned herself across from him. “Harry, why? I told you why it wasn’t a good idea, and you said you agreed, but then you went and did it anyway! Have you no self control?”

“Hermione, nothing happened! I asked him to stay the night, and we just slept, I swear it! But even after that’s established, _why_ do you care so much? It’s really none of your business!”

“Do you mean it, Harry? Nothing happened?”

“Yes, I’m telling the truth! Now answer _my_ question!”

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and calming herself. Harry wasn’t sure if this was out of relief, or if she were trying to relax so she wouldn’t yell again. “I told you already,” she said slowly, “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to get in too deep, because, as I’ve said before, this is going to _end._ One day you’re going to wake up, and look at Malfoy, and you’re not going to feel anything, and you’re going to _hate_ yourself. And he’s going to hate you, and you’re going to hate him, and it’s just going to escalate, and your rivalry will get worse, and someone might wind up hurt badly…” Hermione trailed off as she realized she was rambling and quickly cleared her throat. 

“You don’t know that for sure,” Harry said quietly.

“How do you mean?” Hermione said suspiciously. 

“Well, we never really found out that we took the Potions for sure, it’s a possibility we didn’t, you know…” Harry bit his lip; half wishing he had kept his mouth shut in fear of her answer.

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, only moving to blink. “Are you suggesting,” she started incredulously, “that you think there’s a plausible possibility that neither you _nor_ Draco took the Potion? Do you seriously think you actually loved each other from the start?” she laughed humorlessly at the prospect. “I don’t know about you, but to me it seems highly impossible.”

“Why, though? Is it really that hard to believe?” Harry asked, still speaking very quietly, as he was upset. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Hermione emphasized. “Need I remind you that mere minutes before you consumed the Potion, you and Malfoy were ready to rip each other’s heads off?”

“But…” Harry started, but quickly realized he was fighting a losing battle with one look at Hermione’s face. So he decided to use a different approach. “Maybe you’re right,” he started carefully, “but what if the Potion kind of just helped us along a bit? I mean, isn’t it possible that after we took the Potion, we had a chance to get to know each other better, and we started to care about each other for real?”

“It seems highly unlikely,” Hermione said bluntly, “but you can believe that if you want to. I just don’t want you to have any delusions that may or may not be shattered by the time the two months are up. But again, all I can offer you is my warning. I suggest you wait the rest of the two months. Continue as you’ve been going, there’s no problem with that, as far as I can see. And when it’s over, if you don’t feel any different, then do whatever you want, I won’t try to stop you anymore. Remember, this is just because I care about you.”

Harry smiled at her, but didn’t put any feeling behind it. After conversations like these, he always felt emotionally drained. Her constant worrying remarks weren’t really helping his mission to put the whole Love Potion dilemma out of his mind. “I’d better get back to Draco,” Harry said, glancing at the door nervously. “He’ll be angry you’ve dragged me up here.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you complain about me controlling you; he’s _so_ much worse than I am.”

“No he’s not,” Harry said automatically, already starting to walk down the stairs. 

Hermione watched Harry go and shook her head sadly. “Too trusting for his own good,” she muttered, getting off the bed to follow him.

[//]

_  
****  
_

(August, 1981)

(Some 16 years earlier…)

Regulus Black was more tired than he could ever remember being, in his entire life. He was practically crawling out of the dark cave he had just spent the past three hours in, and his eyes were sunken in, and his arms were heavy, but he had a vague smile on his face. He had emerged triumphant.

When Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, he never had ideas of “purification” of the world in his mind. In fact, he had been pressured and threatened into joining, which at first scared him out of his wits. After a while, though, he figured he could benefit from this position. Sure, it would be dangerous, but it would be anyway, so why not get something out of it? Regulus was a very smart man, and he knew an opportunity for gain when he saw one. 

In fact, it was such a great idea that he didn’t know why nobody had thought of it earlier; simply get close enough to the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself that you gain knowledge that can be used against them. And that was just what Regulus had done. 

He took a moment to get his bearings; he had to gather energy to Apparate to a safe place. He sat down on the cold, wet floor of the area outside the cave and cast a few healing charms on himself that boosted his energy slightly. He then pulled his broomstick out of his pocket—he had put a shrinking charm on it so he could fit it in. He enlarged the broomstick back to its normal size and mounted it, prepared to fly back to the other side of the lake by the cave. Before taking off, he patted his pocket to reassure himself that the Horcrux was still there. It was, and he allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. He had done well. 

Clinging to his broom tightly, he began to fly back across the lake. As he did this, he tried to think where he could go now; surely he’d have to find a safe place where he could spend time figuring out an effective way to destroy the Horcrux. He was certain that the Dark Lord had made it difficult to do such a thing, and he’d probably need books about destroying dark relics. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the dark figure waiting for him on the other side of the lake. Almost.

When Regulus saw the menacing figure, he almost stopped flying and turned around, back towards the cave, but he knew that would solve nothing, for something so simple would not stop Lord Voldemort.

When Regulus had embarked on his mission, he had been fully prepared to die—he was, in fact, planning on committing suicide after he finished the task in order to avoid torture—so that wasn’t why he was terrified. No, it was just that he wasn’t supposed to die at _this point._ He was either supposed to die while in the cave, or after he destroyed the Horcrux. Not now, not when he had it safely in his pocket and was so close to finishing his mission. But, it looked as if the Dark Lord had other plans. 

So Regulus steeled himself for what was sure to happen, and took his time in flying back to shore, prolonging his anxiety. When he touched down and dismounted his broom, the dark, hooded figure was still standing, unmoving, several yards away from him. Regulus just stood where he was, waiting for the other figure to make the first move.

Sure enough, after a full sixty seconds of silence, the Dark Lord took several steps forward, so that he and Regulus could clearly see each other. He still had his hood on, however, so Regulus could not see his face, and could not be totally sure of his identity. 

A cold voice emitted from the folds of the robe. “Surely you didn’t think your little quest would go unnoticed, did you?” it said, chilling Regulus to the bone. 

“I could only hope,” Regulus responded weakly, not bothering to take his usual respectful tone, as he knew he was already doomed. 

“How clever you are,” Voldemort said, his tone mocking. “I was actually quite surprised that you had gotten even this far. You would have done amazingly in my ranks… too bad you decided to turn traitor.” 

Regulus had no time to respond. Before he even realized Voldemort had finished speaking, he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, causing him to crumple in a heap on the ground, twitching and shrieking as he was subjected to the most pain he had ever experienced. 

The torture went on for several minutes that felt to Regulus like hours; Voldemort was silent the entire time, just watching impassively as Regulus writhed in pain. Finally, the curse was lifted.

“You make me sick,” Voldemort spat. 

“Likewise,” Regulus croaked. Voldemort ignored him.

“I wish to look at you no longer.” And with that, Voldemort cast the killing curse, and Regulus was still and silent. Not bothering to step any closer, Voldemort muttered, _“Accio Horcrux,”_ and after catching the floating locket, was gone. 

A moment later, he appeared in front of Malfoy Manor, the home of one of his most trusted servants. Due to a spell that constantly hovered around Voldemort, Lucius was immediately alerted of his presence, and opened the door. Although he had already known what he would see when he opened it, he was still shocked to see his master standing there on his doorstep. But he was just as frightened, because Voldemort never went to you; you went to him. That is, unless he was going to kill you.

Lucius smiled weakly. “M – My Lord. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice sounded strong, but his demeanor communicated otherwise; his knees were shaking, ready to give. To prevent this, he braced himself against the doorframe. 

“Malfoy.” It was not a greeting, nor a question. 

Lucius unfroze after a few moments. “Please, come in! How rude I’ve been!” 

Voldemort followed Lucius into the Manor, declining Lucius’s offer for a seat, choosing to stand instead. Lucius watched him uncomfortably, not used to his guests standing right in the middle of the parlor. 

“Malfoy, I need a favor,” the Dark Lord said shortly. “That’s why I have come.”

“Oh? Of course I’ll do it. What is it?” Lucius asked, relief spilling into his stomach; he wouldn’t be murdered tonight, after all. 

“Remember the book I gave you? A year ago, I believe it was?” Lucius nodded fervently. “I told you it was very important, and that you must keep it safe, no matter what, remember?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Lucius said, now getting nervous. What if harm had come to the book and he hadn’t realized? Is that what this was about?

“Well, as far as I can tell, you’ve done a good job of keeping it safe. Your home is the perfect place to keep things of such importance. So, tonight I have come to ask you to keep an additional artifact safe. Under no circumstances will any harm come to it. Under no circumstances will it leave your home. You will put several protective charms around it. You will keep it well hidden. Understood?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Lucius said, again relief flooding through him. But at the same time, he was getting more anxious. Why was it so imperative that it be kept safe? Was somebody looking for it? Was somebody going to try to torture information out of him? With the Dark Lord, one never knew, or at least not until it was too late.

“Very well, Malfoy. I’m trusting you here.” Voldemort reached into the pocket of his robes, and withdrew the Horcrux. It was a locket; a locket with an ornate ‘S’ inscribed on the front, obviously once a possession of Salazar Slytherin. Lucius inhaled sharply; this was obviously a very valuable item, and he was honored that the Dark Lord was entrusting it to him. Voldemort let it slither from his hand into Lucius’s palm, and the heavy weight falling onto his skin practically radiated power. Lucius was shocked to find that it was cold—he thought that since it had been in Voldemort’s hand, it would have absorbed some warmth. But then again, this was the Dark Lord, and nobody really knew if he should be expected to give off heat. 

“One last thing, Malfoy,” Voldemort said before leaving.

“What is it, My Lord?” Lucius breathed.

“I want you to put a glamour charm on it. The strongest one you can manage; conceal the letter so that nobody will be able to reveal it, and nobody will know just how important it is. Do we understand each other?”

Lucius nodded, and Voldemort was gone.

** [End Of Chapter Three] **

(A/N): Er, yeah, obviously that last part involved a lot of guesswork, but just be patient. We don’t know if it actually was Regulus Black who took the Horcrux, but that is my theory (and it’s shared by many others). Also, some think that the Horcrux is in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. I sort of agree, but for the purposes of this story, I’m ignoring that. *nods* Well, I hope you liked it and I apologize for any typos—I tried to get this out ASAP and didn’t proof-read it as many times as I should have. REVEW!

**XOXO Princesspepper OXOX**

\--Song: “Secrets Don’t Make Friends” by From First To Last. 


	4. Burn Out

****

**

[Chapter Four: Burn Out]

**

****   
**__**

(Present time…)

_{I envy your demise;_  
I hope it’s all you dreamed it would be,  
One bullet in this gun,  
Not sure if it’s for you or me…} 

“Malfoy, would you _please_ shut your mouth?” Harry said, for what felt like the seven hundredth time that day. “You’re really beginning to grate on my nerves, and I mean it this time.”

Harry was currently walking to lunch, after a particularly stressful morning, during which he had failed a Transfiguration exam, gotten yelled at by Filch for being in the hallway after the bell rang, and accidentally exploded a Potion in Slughorn’s class. Needless to say, his nerves were already on edge, and the fact that he was in the company of both Draco _and_ Hermione didn’t help matters at all. 

The two of them just simply didn’t seem to be able to stay within the same corridor (let alone room) with one another without getting into some sort of stupid argument, during which insults were thrown back and forth at an incredible rate. And most of the time, it was Draco who started said arguments, so Harry wasn’t too happy with him at the moment.

“Oh, come on, Harry,” Draco scoffed haughtily, “you know I don’t mean it.”

“Be that as it may, it still _bothers_ me, as I’ve told you countless times.”

“But it’s just a bit of petty name-calling, right Granger?” Draco responded, leaning forward slightly to look at Hermione, who was walking on Harry’s other side. When she didn’t answer, but merely glared back, Harry got even angrier. 

“I get the distinct impression that you’re the only one able to make light of this, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled. “Most people don’t enjoy being picked on.”

“He’s right, you know,” Hermione sniffed in an insulted, yet dignified, manner. 

Draco sighed in resignation, rolling his eyes. “Fine then, I’ll stop if you care that much.” His tone was patronizing, and that fact made Harry narrow his eyes angrily. However, he didn’t say anything, and continued to walk down the long hallway, with the awkward silence hovering around him and settling on his shoulders like thick dust.

[//]

Later that day, the same three were walking back to the Gryffindor Common Room after dinner, this time accompanied by Ron as well. When Harry told Hermione that Draco was coming back to Gryffindor with them, and that there was nothing she could say to stop them, she went into lecture mode.

“Harry, be _reasonable._ You have classes tomorrow, and I’m positive you have _loads_ of homework to do, and you can’t really afford such a huge distraction! Am I the only one who’s noticed that you’ve been waking up later and later, missing breakfast, and even coming late to your first class? You need to get—”

“Granger!” Draco shouted furiously, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. “Why must you interfere _every time_ something is going _right_ between me and Harry? Would you just _bugger off_ for once, and leave us the _fuck_ alone?”

“Draco…” Harry warned, glaring at blond, who happened to be getting angrier by the second, as he was letting out weeks of pent up rage. It was apparent to everyone listening to his rant that he had been positively _aching_ to mouth off at Hermione for a very long time, and he was finally getting his chance. However, as much as Harry felt that she deserved it, he really needed to stick by what he had said earlier about _not_ getting into confrontations with his friends.

Draco either didn’t understand why Harry was warning him, or simply didn’t care. “As for you, _Harry,_ ” Draco said, turning his head instantly. “If you didn’t let her push you around so much, she might actually give up and shut her filthy little Mudblood mouth! You’re letting her control you, like some pathetic _mutt,_ and normally I wouldn’t mind, but since it’s affecting _me_ —well, I’d say I just might start minding, if I haven’t already!” Draco seemed to be done, his eyes narrowed into sharp slits, glaring daggers at Hermione. 

Harry stopped walking. “Malfoy?” he said, looking Draco directly in the eye. When Draco looked at him expectantly, Harry balled his hands into fists, gritted his teeth, and uttered, “ _shut the fuck up._ ”

With that, Harry abruptly started walking again, except it wasn’t walking so much as _storming._ He angrily stomped through the hallway at double his previous speed, leaving the other three just staring after him. Now, normally Draco wouldn’t let something as trivial as “shut the fuck up” deter him, but he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Harry quite this angry before, even all those times they had fought as rivals. Part of him really didn’t blame Harry for his outburst—he really did have a stressful day, and what Draco said must have been the last straw.

But Draco knew better than to follow him. 

After a few moments, Draco remembered that Ron and Hermione were still there, and promptly turned to see their reactions. Hermione seemed to be trying to hide a smile of triumph (but not succeeding sufficiently), while Ron was merely staring at Draco with his mouth agape, probably unaware of the fact that he looked like a drunk baboon. Draco rolled his eyes at the pair, and turned around, figuring he wouldn’t be going to the Gryffindor dorms after all.

“See you around then, Granger, Weasley,” Draco threw over his shoulder as he walked back to Slytherin. With complete composure, he returned to his dorm and lounged casually on his bed, looking for all the world as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. This wasn’t an act, either—Draco wasn’t worried in the least. He and Harry had been through many arguments, obviously, and there shouldn’t be anything for him to worry about. After a few hours, or the next day tops, Harry would go over to him and start talking as if nothing had changed. 

However, the following day, Draco found out just how wrong his assumption was. He walked into the Great Hall, his eyes searching for Harry and, as usual, not finding him. So Draco went about his routine and sat at the Slytherin table, keeping his eyes on the door and waiting for Harry to walk in. This was when Draco noticed something was different; usually, when Harry enters the Great Hall in the morning, he looks at Draco and smiles. Today, however, his eyes remained staring straight ahead of him, and his face remained impassive. Draco tried to catch his eye by waving, or standing up pointedly, but still Harry stubbornly refused to look his way. The only smile Draco saw upon his lips was directed towards his friends as they greeted him. 

Draco got annoyed. He was not accustomed to being ignored, especially not by someone who he respected, like he respected Harry. On the way out of the Great Hall, Harry walked at a brisk pace, not bothering to even look in Draco’s direction. Draco had to jog to keep up with him, and when he finally caught up, Harry didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence. 

“Harry! _Harry!_ ” Draco called, still walking at a fast pace in an attempt to keep up with Harry. “Oh, come on, Potter! You can’t just go on ignoring me like that!”

Harry finally turned around, his eyes ablaze with anger. “Oh yeah?” he said defiantly. “Just watch me.” With that, he spun around and continued to walk. But Draco wasn’t about to give up that easily. 

“What’s with all this, then?” he practically whined, trying to get Harry to look at him. “You can’t still be mad about yesterday!”

“I obviously am, Malfoy, so either say something useful or go bugger off!” 

“But we’ve had loads of fights before, and you never ignored me then!” Draco complained. 

“Maybe I’ve finally realized that you’ve been kicking me around, and maybe I’ve finally gotten sick of it! And maybe I think _you_ need a lesson on how to deal with people, and you need to learn that nobody lives to serve you!” Harry spat, his glasses glinting menacingly. 

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” Draco said, in the most apologetic voice he could muster, which, as it turns out, wasn’t very apologetic at all. 

“You’re just saying that so I’ll speak to you again. Well, you know what Malfoy? I’m tired of your stupid games, and I’m tired of this damned cycle you’ve forced me into! You say something rude, I get mad, you apologize, I accept it, you say something rude, I get mad, you apologize… well, this time I’m _not accepting it_ until you find a better way of showing me that you _really are sorry_!”

Harry walked away, and Draco stared after him, dumbstruck.

[//]

_This is no problem,_ Draco assured himself later as he stared at his bed curtains. _No, really. It’s really, really, no problem. It’s not like Potter will actually go through with this whole thing. He’ll miss me too much, and then he’ll come back to me, and_ he’ll _be the one begging forgiveness._ Draco smiled maliciously at that thought. It was something he’d never get over, really—he always felt the need to one-up Harry, even though their rivalry was supposedly over. He still craved the feeling of victory over the other boy, and it would seriously damage his pride if he had to do something as loathsome as _apologize._ True, he had done it many times before, but the whole point of that was that he never actually meant it. Potter had been right about one thing—he wasn’t being sincere, and never had been. It would take more than a pout from The Boy-Who-Lived to get Draco to grovel.

Draco turned over in his bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. He had a slight feeling of unease in his stomach, but aside from that, he was pretty much okay. Well, he did feel guilty. And he actually _wanted_ to apologize for once, but he blamed this on the Love Potion. Draco was especially thankful that Love Potions had no effect on his actions, because if they had, he would already be groveling.

[//]

****

_(Seven years earlier—1990)_

“Draco! Are you even listening to me?” His father’s cold voice abruptly snapped Draco out of his daydream, in which he was riding on his broom over a calm lake on a clear, sunny day.

“Yes, Father,” Draco responded morosely, turning his gaze to the floor from where it previously rested somewhere above his father’s left shoulder.

“Good,” Lucius responded, his voice taking on a threatening tone. He had announced to Draco earlier that day that he was to show Draco something very important, and he was obviously getting agitated since Draco didn’t find what he was saying too riveting. “Anyway, as I was saying, this is possibly the most important room in the entire Manor. Do you know why, Draco?” 

Draco took a moment to look around, reminding himself where he stood. “Er, no, not really.” They were standing in the middle of a room Draco had never been in before; his father had led him through several secret passages that Draco hadn’t known existed in order to get here. It seemed like a very plain room to Draco, compared to some of the others in the Manor—it was filled with dusty artifacts, and old bookshelves, and faded velvet cushions with antique relics resting atop them. Although he hadn’t paid much attention to how he and his father had gotten there, Draco suspected that they were underground, for there were no windows, and the only light was coming from a single levitating candle above their heads. The air in the room held a sort of sacred, old quality to it; the dust seemed to carry secrets that weren’t ever going to be told. 

“You don’t know,” Lucius repeated. “Well, take a look around you! Does this look like any ordinary room in the Manor to you?”

“No,” Draco said stoutly, pouting impatiently. He was nine years old—nearly ten, and all he wanted to do was play, not take a tour of a dusty room with his boring father. 

“Draco, honestly,” Lucius snapped, “I’m showing you this for a reason, the least you could do is pretend to care!” 

“Fine.”

“Well, as I’m sure you can tell, everything in this room is extremely old, and extremely valuable. A few things in here were even given to me by the Dark Lord, himself!” Draco’s eyes widened in mixed fear and amazement as Lucius pulled a leather-bound book off a shelf and showed it to Draco, instructing him not to touch it. “See? The Dark Lord trusts me with some very important items, and I’ve brought you here so you can be aware of it. Also, I think it would be wise if some of the more… _curious_ items were to be looked after by you.”

Draco looked up at Lucius, his eyes widening even further. “Me? Really?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

“Yes, really. I trust you Draco; you may be young, but I believe you to be responsible enough to help me out when it comes to certain things. Now, you see this over here?” Lucius was now handling a fine gold chain, from which hung a circular pendant with a hinge and a clasp.

Draco looked closely at the object. It seemed like an ordinary locket to him, but at the same time, when he looked at it, he got a feeling of foreboding in his stomach. Every time he got too close, something in his chest fluttered, and he instantly stepped away. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lucius was saying somewhat reverently. 

“I suppose,” Draco whispered, his eyes still wide from the feeling the locket was giving him. 

“Well, this is one of the things I’d like you to look after. See that box over there?” Lucius indicated a cardboard box that was slightly bigger than Draco’s head. It was overflowing with things, some of which Draco was sure were junk. 

Draco nodded in response to his father’s question. “Well, I’d like to take that box up to your room and help you hide it somewhere. This locket is to stay in the box, along with everything else inside of it. You are to tell nobody of its whereabouts. Do you understand, Draco?”

“Yes…” Draco said, knowing better than to hesitate answering. “But why? I don’t understand why.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes. “Draco, that’s none of your business. I suppose you’ll find out some day, but until then you must keep your nose out of things that aren’t your business. Now, take this locket while I carry the box up to your room. Handle it gently, now.”

As soon as the locket touched Draco’s skin, he felt a surge of magic emanating from it in waves. However, he found himself unsurprised. His father had many items that could be consider powerful, and he didn’t dwell on it too much.

Once the locket was tucked into the box, and both were buried in a dark corner of his closet, Draco forgot about them, never realizing just how important they were.

[//]

**_(Present Time)_ **

_{Well I find it hard to stay  
With the words you say;  
Baby let me in…}_

Surprisingly, when it came to their little argument, Harry was actually doing far better than Draco. Sure, he was a bit uneasy about the whole thing, and slightly worried, but he also felt strangely empowered. He found himself looking forward to having to see Draco, just so he could not talk to him.

Harry wasn’t disappointed the next day at breakfast. Draco seemed to be respecting Harry’s wishes and not bothering him, but Harry saw him casting wary looks at him through the corner of his eye nearly the entire time. Harry managed to stay true to his plan and not look back at Draco, which was a lot harder than it sounds. But at the same time, just the thought that Draco was trying to catch his eye made Harry happy somehow; it meant that maybe his plan was working after all, and Draco cared enough to maybe _do_ something about the situation before it got out of hand.

However, the novelty of it all wore off after the first week or so. At first, Harry’s friends tried to stay out of it—they really did—but after this initial week, they began to get worried. As Harry was no longer enjoying the feeling of hanging something over Draco’s head, he was beginning to get depressed, and bored, and neither of them could stand for that (even though Harry constantly told them to stay out of things that weren’t their business). 

Surprisingly, Ron was the one to bring it up. It was Thursday morning, exactly a week after the initial incident, and Harry was morosely poking at his runny scrambled eggs and trying not to look at the Slytherin table. Abruptly, Ron dropped his fork with a clatter, and rolled his eyes at Harry in a very obnoxious manner. 

“Alright, how long are you going to pretend nothing’s wrong before you tell us what’s happened?” Upon hearing this, Hermione closed the book she had been reading and looked up, apparently deciding this would be an important discussion and studying could wait until later. 

Harry looked up as well, a genuinely surprised expression on his face. “What are you talking about?” he said sharply, not convincing anyone. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Ron said in response, waving Harry’s question off. “There’s obviously something wrong, as I haven’t caught you and your ferrety lover snogging recently. Not that I’m complaining or anything, as it’s not something I enjoy watching, but it seems to be bothering you and that’s not good.”

“How very thoughtful of you, Ron,” Harry said sarcastically, slumping in his seat in a generally depressed fashion. 

“Harry, cut the crap and tell us what’s happened,” Hermione said sharply, making Harry twitch, as he hadn’t noticed she’d been listening. 

“You already _know_ what’s happened, you were there!” Harry said harshly, crossing his arms defensively. 

“What, that stupid little tiff you had last week?” Ron said incredulously. “ _Please,_ you’re going to get depressed over _that?_ ”

“Nobody said I was depressed!” Harry shot back. “I’m just taking a stand and not letting him kick me around anymore! You _must_ have heard me yelling at him, I was pretty sure the whole school did.” 

“No, Harry, we didn’t. We’re not _that_ nosy that we eavesdrop on the conversations you have with your boyfriend,” Hermione sighed. 

“Oh, is that what he is to me?” Harry said resentfully.

Hermione either didn’t hear him or chose not to. “So what _did_ you say to him?”

“I told him I was sick of his bullshit, and I was sick of him telling me he was sorry when he wasn’t. That’s all.”

Hermione stared at him intently for a moment, and then spoke. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say that was great, but I don’t think that’s the best thing you could do right now.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry said, beginning to get fed up. “Stop being so cryptic.”

“Well, I’m just saying, under these circumstances, don’t you think it’s a bad idea to stop talking to him for an indefinite amount of time? I mean, in a way, it could be for the better, but then again, it could make things get worse.”

“Thanks Hermione, that was _loads_ more straightforward.”

Hermione scoffed indignantly and fidgeted in her seat. “Do I have to spell it out for you? You have supposedly taken a Love Potion. One that is going to wear off in under a month. What if your little silent treatment lasts over that month? That way the relationship will end itself, and that’s sort of good, but at the same time, it will leave the both of you with unresolved issues. By the time the Potion wears off, they will be issues you’re not going to _want_ to resolve. But believe me, they _will_ come up again, and you’ll regret this. From what I saw, I could tell you and Draco had something good going on, and you’re going to throw that away over a little argument?”

“It’s not a _little argument,_ Hermione, this has to do with my _self esteem,_ and the fact that I don’t like to be pushed around!”

“I understand that Harry. But do you at least see my point?”

Harry sighed. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m doing my best not to interfere, but if this goes on for much longer, I think I’ll have no choice.”

“Fine. Look, I’m sure it’s not going to last as long as you’re thinking. I’m sure he’ll just apologize in a few days, and we can move on with our lives.”

“That’s all you’re waiting for? _An apology?_ ” Ron interjected. “Harry, in the six years you’ve known Malfoy, has he ever apologized for _anything_ sincerely?”

“No, not that I can think of… but still, I’m sure he’ll be able to, if not just once.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that Harry,” Ron said, getting up and leaving the Great Hall for his first class. 

Harry turned to Hermione, who was still sitting at the table, now re-opening her book. “Why are you two so interested in my love life? You were the one trying desperately to get me and Draco to abstain, and this pretty much solves your problem!”

Hermione closed her book again. “That’s true, but I hate to see you upset, Harry, especially when you’re practically doing it to yourself.” With that, she got up and followed Ron out of the room. 

“I’m upset?” Harry asked himself, finally giving in to temptation and casting a look at the Slytherin table. 

Draco had been staring at him.

[//]

Another week passed, and nothing had changed at all. Harry was just thankful that Slughorn had not made them brew any Potions in class lately (they hadn’t had any practical lessons for a while), for Draco was Harry’s Potions partner, and that would have led to awkwardness, as they still weren’t talking.

Harry was still avoiding Draco, and it was simply _killing him._ He didn’t know if it was because of the Potion, or something else, but either way it wasn’t fun. Hermione was noticing, too. Whenever she saw him moping in the common room, she’d send him a pointed look that clearly said “You could be snogging someone right now if you’d just _talk to him._ ” Whenever she did this, Harry would just mope in another direction.

Finally, Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She came up with a devious scheme, conveniently forgetting to tell Harry about it. The thing was, Draco was in Hermione’s Arithmancy class—a perfect opportunity to speak to him while Harry wasn’t there.

Hermione had been watching Draco closely for over a week, and she started to notice subtleties that indicated this fight was affecting him as much as it was affecting Harry, if not more. He was beginning to develop dark circles under his eyes, which was quite scary against his porcelain skin. His hair looked like he had paid far less attention to it, and the ends were beginning to curl in a way that probably drove him crazy. His clothes looked slightly rumpled, and his usually meticulously filed nails were slightly uneven and ragged, as if he had been biting them. While Harry’s obvious depression showed through his actions, perhaps Draco’s was reflected in his appearance. 

The next day in Arithmancy, Hermione arrived early. Draco was already there, but the seat next to him was still empty. So Hermione took it.

“Hello, Malfoy,” she said brightly, beginning to unpack her books, turning to the board in the front of the room to read what was on it. 

“Granger,” Draco said curtly, yet Hermione heard the suspicion in his voice. When Hermione didn’t offer any explanation in her choice in seating, Draco asked. “What are you doing here?”

Hermione wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m in this class too,” she said lightly, now copying the notes. 

“Well, yes, I’ve noticed,” Draco said.

“Oh, Malfoy, I didn’t know you cared!” Hermione said in a mock-flattered voice.

“Please, you’re rather hard to ignore, as your hand’s in the air half the time! What I meant was, what are you doing sitting _here?_ ”

“I thought it’d be appropriate for us to get a bit more comfortable with one another, as my best friend is dating you,” Hermione said, still not looking at Draco in favor of copying notes. 

“Well, in case _you_ haven’t noticed, Potter and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately,” Draco said grimly. 

“Ah, finally we’re getting somewhere!” Hermione said brightly. 

“ _What?_ I knew you had an ulterior motive!” Draco said accusingly. 

“Of course I do. Why else would I be speaking with you?” As soon as Hermione said this, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“It’s alright,” Draco said morosely, leaning on one of his hands and yawning. “I’m too tired for an argument, anyway.”

“Are you, now?” Hermione said curiously. “Have you been losing sleep over this?” she said, pure sympathy in her voice now. 

“Yes,” Draco said without thinking. Then he paused. “Why am I telling _you_ this?” 

“Because I’ve asked. And you probably want this stupid fight between you and Harry over with, am I right?” 

“Maybe,” Draco said stubbornly. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright, yes.”

Hermione smiled brightly again, and instantly went into a ramble. “Well the whole losing-sleep-thing is interesting, because just the opposite has happened with Harry. Practically all he’s been _doing_ is sleeping. I mean, he goes to bed at eight on school nights and ten on weekends. And he sleeps until noon when he can, which means he’s been getting over twelve hours of sleep.” Hermione stopped and waited for Draco to register this information.

“Are you trying to tell me that he’s been depressed over this, too?” Draco said weakly. 

Hermione nodded solemnly. “I’ve been worried about him. That’s why I wanted to try to talk to you.” The instant she finished saying this, Professor Vector started speaking, and the room instantly went quiet. Draco cursed under his breath. He had very much wanted to continue their conversation, but Hermione’s head had instantly snapped around, paying rapt attention to what Professor Vector was saying. Draco sighed and turned his attention to the front of the room as well, figuring they could continue speaking at the conclusion of the class.

And he was right. As soon as the bell rang and the students in the room frantically began to pack their bags, Hermione turned to Draco again. “Listen, Malfoy,” she said, an air of seriousness about her. “We can’t speak like this in public—Harry would kill me if he knew I was doing this.”

“He doesn’t know?” Draco said incredulously. 

“No, he doesn’t. So that’s why we mustn’t speak when there’s someone who might tell him around, and especially not when he’s around.”

“Alright. Well, when can we meet, and where?” 

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Hermione teased.

“Shut up,” Draco said, sounding just as teasing, while at the same time desperately wanting her to shut up. 

Hermione laughed. “We should meet in the Library. Harry never goes there, and neither does anyone who speaks to him. Honestly, those Quidditch types…”

“Hey, I play Quidditch!” Draco snapped.

“Oh yeah, sorry Malfoy. But you’re not that _type,_ you know what I mean?” Draco didn’t know what she meant, but decided to pretend he did so she’d continue. “Anyway, keep your eye on me at dinner. Eat quickly, and when you see me get up, go to the Library. Don’t directly follow me though, because otherwise people might get suspicious. And when I say people, I mean Harry.”

Draco smiled, and faintly realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had done it. “Alright, that sounds good. I really appreciate this, you know.”

“I know,” Hermione said, walking out of the classroom, but turning once she reached the door to give him a quick wave. As she walked away, Ron caught up with her and put his arm around her waist. 

“What’s got you looking so smug?” he said, bending down so he could kiss her on the cheek. 

“You’ll find out eventually, I suppose,” she said mysteriously. Ron rolled his eyes at her vagueness, but decided it couldn’t be important enough for him to care.

[//]

At dinner that day, Draco did as Hermione said and gulped it down. This was probably unnecessary, however, because he had been eating so little lately that he could have taken his time and still finished before her.

He also watched her, and saw that she, too, was eating quickly. She looked up every once in a while and gave him a meaningful look, in response to which he would nod. Finally, she stood up, and Draco saw her making excuses to Harry and Ron. Finally, the two boys nodded, and continued conversing with one another while she got up and left the room. Draco waited exactly two minutes before he too got up and followed her. Unlike her, however, nobody at the Slytherin table cared enough to question where he was going.

When he arrived at the Library, he found Hermione quickly; she was at her usual table. Everyone had come to realize at this point that Hermione always went to the same table, and since she was there so often, people had found other places to sit, leaving that table constantly free for her. But, to Draco’s surprise, as soon as Hermione caught sight of him, she gathered her things and got up from the table, beckoning him to follow her. 

She led him to a deserted corner of the Library, as close to the Restricted Section as one could get without Madam Pince yelling at them. Nobody frequented this area, so they were pretty much left to themselves. There were comfortable beanbag chairs around the area, and Hermione sank into one, indicating that Draco should do the same. 

As they were in a Library, and that was a very unwise place to have a conversation, Hermione cast a silencing charm around the two of them, so their speaking wouldn’t disturb anybody. 

“Good idea, Granger,” Draco said approvingly, settling into his beanbag chair in as comfortable position as he could get. 

“Thank you, Malfoy,” Hermione said politely. “Now, where were we?”

“Well, you seemed to be about to elaborate on why you wished to speak with me,” Draco recalled. 

“Ah, right. Well, actually, something’s changed since I’ve last spoken to you. I finally got Harry to tell me something about why he’s looked so glum lately. Now, before I tell you this, you have to promise that you won’t rub it in his face later, once you’ve made up. As I’ve said before, he’d positively _kill_ me if he knew I was telling you this.”

“Yes, I promise,” Draco said impatiently.

“Good. The thing is, Harry’s been in fights with people he’s cared about loads of times. In fourth year he got into a fight with Ron, and they didn’t speak for a _really_ long time. Ugh, that was _awful,_ I was caught in the middle and everything! And the worst part was—”

“ _Granger,_ you’re digressing,” Draco interrupted as politely as he could.

“Oh yes, sorry. Right, well all those times he’s fought with his friends, the only change in him I could see was that he just angered a lot more easily. He’d lash out at people that didn’t deserve it, and he’d go into long rants about whoever it was he was fighting with.”

“Your point is?” Draco drawled.

“My _point_ is, Harry’s not acting that way at all this time. He doesn’t even seem remotely angry. He’s just… _sad._ I confronted him about this today, and me saying that seemed to really strike a chord somewhere inside of him, so he proceeded to drag me up to his dorm and tell me _everything_.”

Draco was beginning to get very interested, indeed. “What did ‘everything’ include?”

“He actually came out and told me that he feels depressed. He’s scared, because this is affecting him more than he thinks it should. Okay, well, he didn’t tell me _everything_ because he wouldn’t tell me what he meant by that, but still, I think that’s getting somewhere.”

“So let me get this straight,” Draco said. “Harry’s depressed, and he’s getting concerned because he cares too much about our fight?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Hermione said, pleased at how quickly he had caught on. She was afraid he’d be as slow as Harry and need everything completely spelled out. 

“There’s still something I don’t get,” Draco said.

“What’s that?”

“Why do you _care?_ ” Draco said, exasperated. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Because Harry’s my friend, and I think he’d feel a lot better if the two of you were to patch things up. And I think you’re both being stubborn and stupid.”

“Thanks,” Draco said sarcastically. “But weren’t you the one who—”

“Tried to get you to abstain, yes,” Hermione interrupted. “Harry said the same thing. But… oh, I suppose I should tell you what I told Harry.” Hermione proceeded to explain to Draco why, even though on the surface it seemed good in respect to the Potion, their little argument could wind up working against them. 

“Ah,” Draco said simply, settling back in his chair out of defeat. “Well, since you know so much, what is it that Harry wants?”

“An apology,” Hermione said simply. “That’s all.”

“But I already apologized!” Draco whined, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. 

“Apparently when you said it, Harry wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Maybe he needed some time to be angry,” Hermione said. “Either that, or he didn’t think you meant it,” she added in an undertone.

“What was that last bit you said?” Draco said, narrowing his eyes. When Hermione repeated herself louder, Draco frowned. “But that’s about as sincere as it gets, Granger. Plus, I can’t apologize _again,_ I’ll sound like I’m groveling. It’d damage my pride too much to do that. I just… _can’t._ ”

“Well, if you want your boyfriend back, you’re going to have to,” Hermione said bluntly.

“Is that what he is to me?” Draco muttered.

Hermione snorted in a very undignified manner. “You and Harry are so much alike, you know? He said the exact same thing.”

“Is that fact supposed to comfort me?” Draco said, obviously overwhelmed by the prospect of having to apologize again. 

Hermione shook her head, more to clear it than to tell him ‘no.’ “Just think about it, okay? But don’t think too long, because before you know it, it’ll be February the first, and you and Harry will have gone back to being mortal enemies.”

“We never were,” Draco said softly.

“What was that?” Hermione said excitedly, and Draco got the distinct impression that she had heard him, and just wanted him to say it again.

But he humored her. “We never were ‘mortal enemies.’ Just rivals. There’s a rather big difference.” With that, Draco got up and waved goodbye to her, walking out of the Library.

Hermione put on another one of her self-satisfied smiles as she watched his retreating figure. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Draco Malfoy just opened his mind to the possibility that he doesn’t have to hate Harry.”

[//]

A few days later, Ron confronted Harry about “the Malfoy situation” again at lunch.

“Come on, Harry, it’s been over three weeks now, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this depressed. I mean, at least you’ve told us what’s wrong, but that’s not good enough! You have to actually _do_ something about it!”

“I already told you, Ron. Malfoy’s the one who has to do something about this, not me. He still hasn’t apologized.”

“I stand by what I said before; _don’t hold your breath._ He’s scum, he’s not going to _apologize,_ ” Ron muttered. 

“Ron, I don’t want to have this conversation,” Harry said glumly.

“Hasn’t Malfoy already apologized, Harry?” Hermione interjected, making the two tense boys jump, as they had almost forgotten she was there. 

“Ye—wait, how did you know that? Didn’t you say you hadn’t been eavesdropping?”

“But Harry, you know how prideful Malfoy is,” Hermione said, ignoring Harry’s question. “Perhaps he feels he’s already apologized, and doesn’t think he has to again. Apologizing for him must be very damaging to his pride.”

“Hermione, what makes you know so much about Malfoy?” Ron said, sounding vaguely disgusted.

Hermione ignored him, too. “Maybe you should talk to him,” Hermione suggested to Harry. 

“Maybe,” Harry said resentfully. “But I still don’t see how you know all that.” Hermione’s cheeks took on a red tinge, and she promptly buried her nose back in her book to hide her blush. Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t feel the need to probe her any further.

[//]

Hermione waited a week, hoping Harry would take this into his own hands, and when nothing happened, she sat next to Draco in Arithmancy again. When Draco noticed her, he immediately turned to her. “More information?” he asked hopefully.

Hermione smiled. “What, I can’t sit next to my good friend without giving him information?”

“Bitch,” Draco said teasingly. “As you said before, why else would you sit with me?”

“Well, I don’t have information, per se. I came to nag you.”

“Oh great. Just what I need, more nagging,” Draco said dryly. 

“Malfoy, be serious. Now it’s been _four_ weeks. You’ve got one left before the Potion wears off. You’ve got to do something. And _quickly,_ for Merlin’s sake.” 

“I know, I know,” Draco said, wringing his hands nervously. Hermione vaguely wondered if he noticed he was doing this, and decided he probably didn’t. “Every day I wake up telling myself ‘I’ll apologize _today,_ ’ and then something happens when I plan to do it, or he’s already talking to someone, or I’m just so fucking _tired_ that I can’t deal with it, and I wind up putting it off again!”

Hermione could tell that Draco was very distressed, and this was probably the most he’d ever let her see of him. “Then why don’t you just _do it_ and spare yourself all this agonizing?” she asked, sympathy in her voice. 

“I don’t know, I just _can’t!_ ” Draco groaned, pulling at his hair angrily. 

“What if I tell you to? Would you be able to do it then?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Draco said.

“Do it today,” Hermione said firmly, looking him right in the eye.

“I’ll try,” Draco said weakly, turning his head as Professor Vector began to speak.

[//]

Three days later, Hermione sat next to Draco in Arithmancy yet again, for he still hadn’t apologized. “Malfoy,” she said threateningly. He didn’t look at her, but merely closed his eyes tightly.

“I know,” he groaned. “I know what you’re going to say. _I’ll do it today._ ”

“That’s funny, because that’s what you said _three days ago,_ the last time we spoke,” Hermione said, still sounding somewhat frightening. 

“I know! You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“And do you realize that you now have exactly four days, eleven hours, and fifteen minutes before your time runs out?”

“Er…” Draco said uncomfortably. Hermione tried hard not to laugh, for that was the first time she had ever seen Draco Malfoy at a loss for words.

Hermione sighed in defeat. “I obviously cannot make you apologize to Harry. This is the last time I’m going to ask you. _Please,_ for both of your sakes, _tell him you’re sorry._ I know you are, but you have to show _him_ that you mean it.”

Draco heard her, and he knew he would.

But twenty-six hours and forty-five minutes later, he still hadn’t.

[//]

Harry smacked himself on the forehead angrily as he entered the Potions classroom, seeing on the board a complex recipe for a potion that was sure to be just as complex. This meant one thing: he’d be forced to work with Malfoy. Either that, or maybe he could persuade someone to trade partners with him. He dropped his bag on the bench that sat behind the table he was assigned to and immediately began to search the room for someone who might be willing.

Harry quickly realized that he had very few choices. Most of the people in his class were of other houses, and the only person Harry would even consider working with was Hermione, who most likely wouldn’t be willing to switch (both because she’d find Harry’s reasons stupid, and because she didn’t want to disobey Slughorn’s wishes). Harry had taken exactly three steps in her direction when he heard a nervous cough behind him, which made him pause, but not turn. 

“Er… hi,” someone had said. Harry had a pretty good idea who that someone was, but he didn’t believe it. He slowly turned around, to see Draco Malfoy looking at him, standing somewhat awkwardly about a yard behind him.

Harry looked at him expectantly, managing to keep his face impassive. “Hi,” Draco repeated, “remember me?” he said, smiling nervously.

Harry stopped himself from smiling just in time. He still hadn’t gotten what he wanted, so he wasn’t going to break. Harry tried to say something, but quickly realized he had a lump in his throat. He cleared it as quietly as he could. “It depends,” he said. Although he was firm, he still managed to sound kind. “Don’t you—”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said quickly, speaking at the same time as Harry. As soon as he heard that though, Harry stopped. “I’m sorry,” Draco repeated, “really, really, sorry. I meant it the first time I said it, too. It’s just, it’s really hard for me to apologize. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve got quite a bit of pride, and it’s somewhat difficult to put aside, even for you.”

Through all this, Harry was at a loss for words. Over the weeks he and Draco hadn’t been speaking to one another, he had pictured how the apology would be when he finally got it, and he had pictured it many times, in many different ways. But for the first time in his life (or at least what he could remember), and he didn’t think this was possible, but reality had been so much better than how he had imagined it.

When Harry didn’t say anything for a long time, Draco furrowed his brow. “So, do you forgive me?” he asked, and Harry couldn’t remember ever hearing Draco sound this concerned. All those weeks, Hermione had been insisting that Draco definitely cared about him, and now he was finally beginning to believe her. 

“Yes,” Harry finally managed to say, “I forgive you. That’s all I had wanted to hear.”

Relief flooded Draco’s features, and his shoulders sagged as all the tension was released from them. “Good,” he sighed, “that was bloody difficult, and I wasn’t about to get on my knees and grovel. Actually, I probably would have if you made me, come to think of it.”

Harry smiled and removed his bag from the bench he had put it on, sitting down where it had been. Draco watched him, still seeming to be enjoying the feeling of relief. “I’ll get the ingredients,” he said when he finally came back to his senses. He dashed off, and Harry found himself inexplicably happy. He hadn’t even realized how upset he had been over this, but now that it was over, he knew it had been pretty bad.

Harry looked around the room casually, not looking for anything in particular. But when his eyes found Hermione, he realized that she had been looking at him. When their eyes met, she gave him a cheery grin and a thumbs up, quickly turning back to her partner so they could get started on their potion. 

Harry rolled his eyes at her nosiness, but somehow didn’t care as much as he usually would that she had been eavesdropping. At that moment, Draco returned with his arms full of potion ingredients. He carefully set them down on the table, and took his seat to Harry’s right on the bench, perhaps sitting closer than necessary. 

They began to chop their ingredients, not looking at each other, but at the same time, each very aware of the other’s presence. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Draco cast a sidelong glance at Harry. “I missed you, you know,” he said softly, trying his best not to blush.

Harry felt himself grow warm inside. “I missed you too.”

[//]

As Potions was their last class of the day, Harry and Draco exited together, in very close proximity to one another. Harry even went as far as to wrap an arm around Draco’s waist as they talked, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner, but clearly intending on taking the scenic route.

Meanwhile, their Potions class was whispering frantically, because those directly involved were not the only ones aware that Harry and Draco had been ignoring one another. The school had become very aware of the couple, and had been watching them for the past month to see if there had been any changes. 

Now, they had clearly made up, and that would be very hot gossip, so those fond of partaking in such activities were quite eager to get to dinner so they could spread the word.

For once, Harry didn’t care that people were talking about him. Draco was sufficiently distracting him from that, for it had been over a month since they had kissed, and every little movement Draco made caused Harry’s frustration to grow.

He was so adorable. Harry knew Draco would absolutely _kill_ him if he knew he had been thinking that, but it was true. And on top of Draco’s natural cuteness, he was acting particularly shy since their relationship had just been reinstated. 

Finally, Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. “Draco?” he said softly.

Draco stopped walking and turned to face him. “What is it?” he asked. 

Harry leaned down and slowly pressed his lips to Draco’s, making the other boy’s eyes widen, and finally close, as he gave into the kiss. Harry slowly and gently nudged Draco until his back was against the wall, and then deepened their kiss, biting Draco’s bottom lip gently. Draco sighed and moved his hands up to rest on Harry’s waist as they continued to kiss. 

The passerby abruptly stopped chattering as they got an eyeful of what was going on in front of them. A collective “Oooh” was heard from the females, while the males either pretended to gag or watched with mixed interest and faint distaste. As for the gossipers… well, they were very happy, indeed

[//]

Once Harry and Draco arrived at dinner (it took a bit longer than it should have, as they kept getting distracted), Harry led Draco over to the Gryffindor table as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

When they sat down, Ron didn’t even look up from his plate. “Harry, you’re late, what took—” At that moment, Ron had looked up and saw that Draco was sitting in front of him. “I take it the two of you have finally made up?”

“Well spotted, Ron,” Harry said cheerily, helping himself to some mashed potatoes. 

“Great, now you’re going to get all mushy. I _hate_ it when people get mushy in front of me,” Ron sulked, pushing his peas around his plate rather than eating them. 

“ _Mushy?_ Honestly Weasley, could you picture me getting mushy with anyone?” Draco said, but with less insult in his tone than usual. 

“I guess you’re right, not that I’d want to picture that,” Ron said, sounding relieved at this realization. 

Harry, who had managed to ignore Draco and Ron’s exchange, turned to Draco now. “So, would you like to spend some time together?”

“How could I say no after all that’s just happened?” Draco said sincerely, a small smile on his face.

“Great,” Harry said, smiling back. “Come back to Gryffindor with me, like we used to. It’ll be fun.” Harry said the last part with a slightly mischievous glint in his eye, and right after he stopped speaking, Draco yelped and visibly jumped. 

“ _Potter!_ ” he said indignantly, while blushing profusely at the same time.

“Okay, I _really_ don’t want to know what just happened!” Ron said loudly, looking back down at his food to avoid being disturbed. 

Hermione chose this moment to interject. “Harry, I know you’re pleased about having patched things up with Draco and all, but I hope you’re still keeping in mind your… _dilemma,_ ” she said, surveying the couple owlishly. 

“Don’t worry about it Hermione, I’ve already told you we’re not planning on doing anything yet. But could you please not mention that again in front of Ron? The thought of it may make him ill, and he’s already beginning to look a bit peaky,” Harry said, casting a worried glance in Ron’s direction. He seemed to be trying very hard to concentrate on his food, and block out the conversation around him. 

Hermione looked at Ron as well. “By gosh, you may be right,” she said, looking at Ron with distaste, as he was turning an ugly shade of green. 

Later on, when the foursome arrived in Gryffindor Tower, Harry immediately took Draco up to the dorms, in hope of having a private conversation with him. Or… something else. 

Once they were behind Harry’s bed curtains in nothing but boxers with the silencing wards up, Draco instantly dove on Harry. Harry laughed easily and instantly gave into the snogging, for he had really missed it, and what they had managed to get done in the corridors just wasn’t going to cut it.

However, when Draco decided he’d try to take things to the next level, Harry quickly remembered why he had brought him here in the first place. Harry reluctantly pulled away and surveyed Draco for a moment, who now looked frustrated. “Oh come on, what did you expect?” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“I can dream, can’t I?” Draco grumbled, sitting back on his legs. 

“Well I’m glad you did that, because I wanted to speak with you anyway, before you distracted me.”

“I should have known,” Draco said, but as he said it, he relaxed against the pillows on Harry’s bed. 

Harry looked at the clock on his bedside table. “We have three days, one hour, and twenty-four minutes until the Potion wears off. Friday night, at the stroke of midnight, we’re going to find out whether or not our relationship is going to change in a very large way.”

Draco just stared at him. “What’s your point?” he said bluntly, getting impatient. “I knew all that already, and Granger keeps reminding me, too.”

“Well, I was thinking,” Harry began, looking up at the ceiling and biting his lip thoughtfully.

“Good for a change, no?” Draco said, not being able to help himself.

Harry ignored him. He continued to stare at the ceiling, but then turned to Draco suddenly. “Are you still stuck on the idea that the only way you could care about me was if you did take that Potion?”

“Are you seriously going to make me answer that question?” Draco said warily. 

“Yes, why would I be asking if I wasn’t?” Harry said sternly. 

Draco sighed. “No, I suppose I’m not ‘stuck on the idea,’ as you put it. I think there’s a good possibility we could continue to care about one another.” Draco cringed at the conclusion of his words. No matter how he said it, it sounded cheesy. 

Harry smiled. “Good. Well then, I have a proposition.” 

“What would that be?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Why don’t we spend Friday night in the Room of Requirement? You know, the place the party was held the night we took the Potion? That way, we’d know immediately whether or not the Potion had affected us. Sure, it might be a bit jarring to be looking at one another when the change happens, but I figure… well, if nothing does change, we could…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he struggled for words. 

“We could have some privacy?” Draco finished for him suggestively.

“Yes, exactly. And that way Hermione won’t be there to nag us about anything. She can’t even say anything about us spending the night together then, because as soon as it’s midnight, she shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“Well, I think It’s a brilliant plan,” Draco said approvingly, already looking forward to Friday.

[//]

The rest of the week dragged by for Harry and Draco. Well, most weeks dragged by slowly, but this one especially so, because the two were in such anticipation of Friday night. However, Harry had such mixed feelings about the day that he almost wished it were father away.

On the one hand, if all went well, he and Draco could finally go where they knew they shouldn’t before. That alone carried mixed feelings with it. Harry had obviously never gone that far with another person, and he was extremely nervous. What if he did something wrong and screwed it up? But he was also excited beyond all reason. He had been wanting to do this since the second he looked at Draco that night two months ago.

But that was the other thing—what if, when the Potion wore off, Harry was left with no feelings for the other boy? And what if Draco had no feelings for him? There was a whole combination of things that could go wrong, and Harry just tried not to think about it.

This proved very difficult, however, because Hermione seemed to be taking it upon her self to count down the time until the Potion wore off. Every time he saw her, she’d say something like, “Oh, look at that! Exactly thirty-six hours left!” By the time Friday rolled around, Harry wanted to punch her. 

Harry and Draco finally told Hermione of their plan at dinner on Thursday, to make her shut up more than anything else. Immediately after hearing them, she smiled at them in such a way that made them believe that she was thinking very perverted thoughts. “That sounds lovely,” she said in a controlled voice. “But remember, I forbid you to do anything but kissing before midnight.” 

Harry and Draco turned to each other and rolled their eyes. “We know,” they said at the same time before glaring at her. 

Finally it was Friday, and immediately after dinner, Harry and Draco rushed to the Room of Requirement. They stopped in front of the wall on which the door was to appear, and Harry did the honors of walking past it three times, wishing for the perfect room for them. 

When Draco opened the door and stepped inside, he couldn’t help but say “wow.” The room was huge, but not so huge that it wouldn’t be comfortable. There were two main areas—a sitting area, with a couch, a few chairs, and a gigantic clock. There was also an area that had a huge bed with obscene amounts of throw pillows, complete with a canopy and hangings. Perhaps the most spectacular thing about the room, though, was that it appeared to be made completely out of black velvet. There were a few dim lights in the room, but they only illuminated the area directly around them, for the black velvet absorbed most of the light. Even the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in black velvet, except that they had small, glowing balls pressed into them that resembled stars, providing a little more light. 

“Oh my gosh,” Harry said, stepping in next to Draco. “Apparently this room takes some artistic liberties, because this is amazing compared to what I thought.”

“What did you think?” Draco asked, walking over to the couch and making himself comfortable. 

“I just said ‘comfortable and romantic,’” Harry said, still observing the glowing stars on the walls. 

Draco snorted. “Potter, you sap. Sit down.” Harry did, but then turned to look at the clock in front of them. It was mounted on the wall, about four feet in diameter. The numbers on the clock glowed neon green, except for the twelve, which glowed a deep, rich blue. The second hand was bronze; the minute hand was silver; and the hour hand gold. The two boys sat on the couch just staring at the beautiful clock for a few minutes, not even registering what time it was. 

Finally, Harry broke the silence. “It’s seven o’clock. We have a little less than five hours before we should start actually watching the time. What do you suppose we do?” 

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Draco said, draping one of his legs over Harry’s and leaning into him so they could kiss. 

The two spent the next five hours similarly, sometimes taking a break to actually talk about something, but that never lasted long. Finally, Draco managed to catch sight of the clock over Harry’s shoulder while they were kissing. He broke the kiss and pushed Harry off of him, looking at the clock to make sure he’d read it right. 

“Why’d you stop?” Harry said dazedly. 

“Look,” Draco said softly, pointing at the gargantuan clock on the wall. 

Harry looked. They had exactly two minutes before midnight. “Oh shit,” he said, sinking into the couch dejectedly. 

“Yes, ‘oh shit’ would be an appropriate word choice,” Draco responded, he himself getting a bit shaky. 

“Crap, I’m not ready for this,” Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well, sorry, but I’m afraid you’ve got little choice in the matter,” Draco said.

Sixty seconds to go.

Harry sighed. “Here’s to hoping,” he said softly, leaning over to kiss Draco, for what might be the last time.

Thirty seconds.

“Good luck,” Draco muttered, his eyes now fixated on the clock.

“You too,” Harry mumbled back, he too hypnotized by the bronze second hand. 

When there were five seconds to go, both boys squeezed their eyes shut, and they somehow managed to wind up clutching each other’s hands desperately, as if the harder they squeezed, the slower time would go.

Three…

Two…

One…

And the clock chimed midnight.

** [End Of Chapter Four] **

[//]

(A/N): REVIEW!!!!!!!!

****

[XOXO Princesspepper OXOX]

\--Songs (respectively): “Poor Impulse Control” by Jack Off Jill  
“Honey, This Mirror Isn’t Big Enough For The Two Of Us” by My Chemical Romance 


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